Sweet Tooth
by MacFlan
Summary: Come to Pink Cookie, where porn never tasted this good. Erotic baker, Edward Cullen has a new obsession in the form of Bella Swan. Will his buttercream satisfy her sweet tooth? AH, OOC, Comedy/Romance. Collab between BellaFlan and Mac214.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to the first-ever collaboration between BellaFlan and mac! The usual disclaimer applies: neither of us own Twilight, nor do we benefit financially from borrowing the universe. We do, however, own the words we write and the plot of Sweet Tooth. No unauthorized borrowing, copying, translating, publishing, etc. is allowed without the express permission of both mac and BellaFlan. Don't be a douchebag.

Many thanks to askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and to JewelzP, our prereader...

* * *

The frosting for the nipples was too pink. No real woman's nipples were that weird shade of bubble gum... at least I didn't think so; the number of naked nipples I'd seen in person could be counted on one hand.

I scowled and scraped the bowl of buttercream into the garbage before setting up another mixing bowl full of butter, powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla on the mixer. The customer had insisted on double D cups for the cake, and even though the chocolate cake mounds were sculpted into the perfect looking tits - I compared them against Miss January from my worn and dog-eared copy of _Juggs _- they were just too big. Too big and entirely too _pink_. Sure, I wasn't Hugh Hefner or anything, but I really had seen more than my fair share of paper titties.

Glancing furtively around the kitchen and noting the only other employee in the shop was out front with a customer, I quickly lowered my mouth to the cake and flicked out my tongue to lick a dollop of the overly pink buttercream from the cake nipple. Oh, _fuck_. It shouldn't have caused such a visceral reaction, but I felt my cock harden and ache, throbbing almost painfully against my fly. I pushed it to the side to move it into a more comfortable position, but touching myself only caused it to throb and lengthen along my thigh. Great - I had just licked the cake and palmed my genitals. Hopefully the health department wasn't planning a surprise inspection today.

This was the closest I'd probably come to tits for the rest of my life. I didn't really go out a lot - since quitting my soul-sucking job as an accountant six months ago to pursue my dream as a baker, my life basically revolved around sleeping and working. I'd never had many friends ("weird" was the word most often used to describe me) and even fewer girlfriends, so it wasn't a huge change in lifestyle for me when I'd been hired on at The Pink Cookie, the only pastry job I could find and the only erotic cake bakery in all of TriBeCa. There were other bakeries that made penis cakes in Manhattan, but we were renowned for our attention to detail. I was lonely... even though baking penis cakes and vagina cupcakes helped satisfy some of my, er, more unusual predilections.

"Cullen! Out front," Carlisle called out. "We need a consult."

_Fuck!_ Leaving the kitchen would require removing my coat, the only thing hiding my raging hard-on. _Double fuck_, my boss was currently speaking with a petite brunette, and judging from her body language, it was already apparent she wasn't at all comfortable. So, did I risk committing another health violation by leaving on my whites or frighten the small woman out of the shop with my inappropriate bulge?

"Coming," I muttered. Yeah, I wished. There was absolutely no time to take care of business. The coat would stay on.

"I'd like it to be edible," I heard the girl say softly as I rinsed buttercream and powdered sugar off my hands and patted them against my coat.

"If anyone can do it, Edward can. Did you see the picture of King Schlong?" Carlisle flipped through the sticky pages of the display book. "The mathematics involved in engineering that erection alone was astounding. A lesser artisan would have settled for a perpendicular erection, but Edward insisted on a 45 degree angle. I'm still not sure how that dick didn't split in two."

"I like realism," I explained and grabbed a tray from the display case, offering a pastry to the client. "Pink cookie?"

"Sure," she stammered, drawing my eyes to her mouth. "Thanks."

Did I have a trace of buttercream on my lip? Oh god, could she know what I had been doing in the kitchen? Maybe she was from the Department of Health. The panic welled in my chest, deflating my hard-on immediately, but then she took a small bite of the cookie, her tongue shooting out to catch a few crumbs. Health Inspector or not, my dick liked her, and I was right back to square one - with my dick tenting my pants.

"Is... is that _buttercream frosting_?" Her eyebrow twitched rapidly, like a nervous tic, and she sniffed deeply.

Oh, I was fucked. "I... er... well, you see... uh."

"I love the smell of buttercream frosting." Her demeanor instantly changed with her words. Where she had been nervous and tentative, now she was, well... almost aggressive. She was leaning toward me, and one hand clutched at the sleeve of my coat.

Carlisle glanced at me over her head and mouthed, "Whoa," and rolled his eyes before hurrying off to help another customer.

"Um, yeah, I was frosting a cake in the back. It's for a bachelor party," I offered.

Her eyebrow was still spasming, and my cock picked up the rhythm. Thank god Carlisle had wandered away because I wasn't so sure my coat was camouflaging anything, particularly since my hard-on had decided to dance in time with my customer's convulsing brow.

"Oh!" A pretty flush crept up out of the neckline of her shirt. It was the perfect color for the nipples of the cake, and I was two seconds away from asking her if she'd follow me to the kitchen to let me match the color to my buttercream but then remembered that would be super creepy, and she was a potential customer. I stared at her neck, trying to commit the shade to memory. "Well, uh, will you use buttercream on my cake order?"

My balls ached as her breasts heaved, her nipples hardening before my eyes. Goddamn, she was just luscious.

Right. Customer. Order. The consult. "So, I overheard a bit of what you requested. You want a penis cake?"

She was breathing heavily out of her mouth, her hands fluttering around the vicinity of her chest. "Yes. Oh god. Buttercream." She blew out a few quick breaths and then seemed to steel herself... against what, I couldn't hazard a guess. "I... need a cake for a bachelorette party. I want a penis. Oh! I mean... the cake should be a penis. Pierced. You know... I like... well, the penis should have a Prince Albert piercing. A ring... through the..." She trailed off, her voice strangled and high-pitched.

I couldn't take my eyes off her heaving chest, and not just because the color was perfect. Her tits were the exact size and shape of the centerfold from the May 1993 issue of _Hustler_. Well, I couldn't be sure, of course - this woman was wearing a bra and other clothes and lacking a staple.

"That shouldn't be a problem," I told her cleavage. "Do you have any idea for the size, Ms..."

"Uh. Oh. Yeah, my name is Isabella Swan." She stuck out her hand, and for a second I thought she was going to try to shake my dick, which would have been entirely possible, given it was wiggling against the zipper of my pants in an enthusiastic effort to greet her.

"Edward Cullen," I said, taking her hand and pumping it a few times. "So, um, Ms. Swan-"

"Isabella. Please."

"Okay, Isabella, then. How big would you like the penis to be?"

"Enormous," she squeaked.

-({})-

My cock continued to dance beneath my coat long after Isabella left which made me wonder if she was some sort of snake charmer. The heat of her hand still lingered where she had grabbed my coat, and I sniffed the sleeve, dazedly staring at my nearly finished bachelor party project. The breasts were scaled down now and re-frosted to a perfect, creamy peachy-pink. The customer would likely complain - if he, in fact, could tell the difference between a set of double D's and Bella's spectacular, full C cup, which I doubted.

The problem with the nipples had been the buttercream by itself was just too delicate on such a massive rack. The answer had come to me as I had stared at Isabella's erect nipples; I needed to use fondant. The heavier icing was easier to mold perfectly into her likeness, well, at least into the heaven I could only imagine was hidden under her shirt. Sighing heavily, I cupped the breasts about half an inch away from actually touching the frosting.

_Isabella_. She was my muse today, and she had no fucking clue. Blinking several times, I desperately tried to conjure her into my mind, starting with the exposed flesh of her neckline. The untrained eye would have failed to notice that beneath the peachy blush lay a light sprinkling of freckles. I had always been a numbers man after all, and small details such as a light freckle sprinkling never went unnoticed by me. When committing images to memory, minute elements were key to achieving verisimilitude.

"Edward," I could hear her whisper in my ear. "I want _you _to wear a Prince Albert. I want it to be edible."

Piping cream exploded out of the piping tube lying prone on the counter in front of me.  
"I want to suck buttercream off your..."

Suddenly and without warning, Chris de Burgh's voice filled the room, roaring out the song "Patricia the Stripper".

_And with a swing of her hips, she started to strip..._

The lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone brightly on the cake. Isabella materialized in front of me, grinning flirtatiously. She lifted her sweater, showing me my inspiration.

_To tremendous applause, she took off her drawers..._

She smiled wider, one hand holding her shirt in place above her bared breasts, the other circling frosting around her nipple like a sugar-addicted Picasso. Smiling back, I painted the rosy hue of her blush onto the sugary peaks of the cake in front of me.

_And with a lick of her lips, she undid all her clips, threw it all in the air, and everyone stared..._

"Edward, what the fuck?" Carlisle's voice bitch-slapped me back into reality, Bella fading before my eyes.

"Huh?" My voice cracked.

"Dude, what the fuck was that?" Carlisle asked again, starting to artfully create lifelike labia out of light primrose-colored gum paste from across the metal counter. They were a topping for our muffins - Carlisle insisted using a raisin for the clitoris, something that never failed to annoy me. He'd threatened to force me to make tampon biscuits to insert through the labia and into the muffins if I didn't go with it, so I kept my mouth shut.

"I don't know what you mean."

"That shit out front with you and the moderately hot customer. I mean, you're usually a little...strange, but that was downright spastic."

I shrugged and picked up a brush to apply texture to the nipples, stippling with the bristles to create goose bumps. This cake was a work of art. It was not just a pair of titties, it was a _bust _that should be on display in the Guggenheim. Also, I kinda wanted to nestle my dick between the chocolaty mounds.

"Not that she was normal or anything either... I mean, who the fuck gets off on buttercream?"

An angel. A beautiful, perfect, delightfully perverted, big-tittied angel. "You better hope a whole lot of people do, or else you're in the wrong line of work."

"You're evading the question."

"The question is ridiculous. I wasn't acting spastic." I took out a sketch pad to draw up plans for another order; instead I drew breasts. But I didn't stop there. I sketched out a neck, a mouth, and a nose and eyes..._fuck_. I really _was _spastic. Quickly, I flipped the page and pressed the pencil into the paper, drawing a nice, safe vertical line. A rational and completely non-spastic line. Back and forth, I dragged the pencil over paper, darkening the line, stroking the paper, up and down, back and forth, over and over again.

"Oh, fuck. Dude, that cake is a work of art."

_Like I said_... "Thanks."

"I need to take a picture of this for the book."

"She really did seem to like the buttercream," I mused, finding the line had morphed into a bouquet of long-stemmed cupcakes. Each little cake was decorated with a vagina, and no two were alike. One vagina had straight, symmetrical labia surrounding a perfect little clitoris. Another looked more like a blooming flower, with the labia minora jutting out beyond the majora. None of them included a raisin.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Women like flowers, yeah?"

"Um...yeah."

I shrugged, trying to act more nonchalant and less twitchy. "I'm thinking of sending flowers to...a girl."

Carlisle snorted. "Roses, Cullen. That's a bouquet of pussy. No woman wants to receive that."

I frowned, wondering if I should grab some bananas from the freezer and dip them in chocolate to send a more heterosexual message in the form of a cock bouquet.

"Who's the lucky lady?"

"No one," I mumbled.

"Cullen, you're a freak," Carlisle muttered and snapped a picture of my cake with his cell phone.  
"What do you call it?"

"The bouquet?"

"No, man, the cake. It's your creation, so go ahead and name it for the book."

I gazed in reverence at her, the beautiful pair of breasts that I now loved beyond all reason.

"Isabella Swan," I said automatically, because that wasn't at all weird.

_Cullen, you really are a spastic freak._

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** So, Sweet Tooth will be a short work of fiction... maybe six-ish chapters long? Thanks for giving it a read, and thanks for your feedback!

Inspiration for the King Schlong cake:  
classifieds . thestranger . com/seattle/ViewImage?oid=oid%3A939583ℑ=oid%3A1052945


	2. Chapter 2

I agonized for days - should I create the labia and clitorises for the cupcakes out of molding chocolate, marzipan, or gum paste... or should I just make custom cupcake molds? Carlisle was getting pissy about my constant obsession and the number of hours I was spending on the planning, but I was still working on our regular orders - the bondage cake, the miniature tittie cookies, and the thong cake.

In the end, I went with the custom molds - Isabella deserved the most lifelike pussy bouquet I could give her, and with the custom mold, I could use buttercream. She had also asked for an enormous pierced penis, and I would provide both the cake version and the flesh version. I wasn't so sure if my cock qualified as enormous, but the pierced part was as easy as a trip up Broadway to Andromeda Body Piercing Studio two days ago.

Butch, the massive, tattooed piercing guy, had grinned at me maniacally as he jabbed the receiving tube into my urethra. Instantly, I retreated to my happy place, doing my damnedest to ignore the nausea that drop-kicked me in the gut as the reality of what I was about to do sunk in. _Nut up_, I chided myself, _this is for Isabella._ At the mere thought of her name, I smiled dreamily, watching as her specter appeared beside Butch. She pinched her hard nipples through her thin shirt and pursed her puffy lips beguilingly at me before sucking on a finger.

"Edible," she reminded me in that quiet voice of hers.

"Yeah, baby, it'll be edible. You can eat all you want," I whispered, forgetting where I was for a moment.

"Dude, not for two to four weeks," Butch yelled, plunging the piercing sharp needle through my frenulum. I sucked in a breath, as much from the pain as from the hypnotizing sexiness of Isabella's gyrations, and I forgot all about the meaty hands on my cock when she grasped the hem of her shirt and inched it up her torso, the bottoms of her round titties peeking out. "Keep your dick out of mouths until you're healed up unless you want a raging infection. Pus and blood are going to be a fact of life for a few days, my man, but go easy on your johnson."

His words sunk in, and imaginary Isabella gave him the finger and stomped her foot. During one of many fantasies from a recent wank session (the bathroom at the bakery had never seen as much action as I had shown it in the last twenty-four hours), I had promised she could use buttercream on me in any way she wanted. If saliva wasn't good for my new Prince Albert, I was certain cake frosting would be out of the question.

"So... no sex for two to four weeks?" I asked weakly.

"Er, no, just no blow jobs. You can have sex in a week, but keep that shit wrapped. No bodily fluids except your own should touch it until your piercing is completely healed. Oh, and no rough stuff. Take it easy on the little fella." Butch gently patted my now-bleeding dick like it was a puppy, and my dreams of giving fantasy Bella what she desired fell apart in front of my very eyes, along with the image of her and her magnificent rack. "For the next couple of days, try to keep it flaccid."

"Huh? How?"

He shrugged. "Don't think about whatever it is you think about to get your rocks off."

"That's ridiculous. You're telling me not to think about pussy? You try it," I raged, feeling rather unreasonable. A bleeding cock would put anyone in a bad mood. It was like being on the rag, I supposed. "Try to not think about pussy!"

Butch nodded and looked at me with an amused curiosity.

"What are you thinking about?" I demanded.

"Not pussy."

"Bullshit," I spat.

"That's not what makes me hard, pretty boy," he explained, applying an ice pack just under my piercing. "Now, if you asked me not to think about cock..."

"I'll be doing up my pants now."

It was with renewed determination that I took my first batch of cupcakes out of the oven. I would spend these weeks showing Isabella how much I cared. The deep crimson lips of the Red Velvet cupcakes with cream cheese filling seemed to smile up at me as I lovingly stroked the outer edge of the cupcake with the tip of my finger and hatched my plan.

-({})-

Ironically, the office building Isabella worked in on 11th Avenue was called The Chocolate Factory. I pushed my way though the revolving glass entry carefully, so that the delicate buttercream of Isabella's pussy bouquet would not smear. Each step I took was agony as the head of my dick rubbed against the fleece crotch of my pants. Yeah, I was totally dressed like an asshole, but fashion had to take a back seat to the well-being of my johnson today, just as Butch had decreed.

After the initial rush of adrenaline had drained post-piercing, I started to notice the head of my dick actually hurt like a motherfucker, and just as I had prophesied, there was no way to make it lay down and behave, especially with visions of Bella dancing in my head. The more I tried to handle my shit, the worse it got. _Handle my shit_...well, fuck if my inner monologue didn't sound like Carlisle. Maybe I'd been spending too much time around pussy cake. Skeeze was apparently contagious.

I waddled my way to the elevator, carefully cradling Isabella's bouquet of buttercream pussy with one arm. I had arranged the long stems of the cupcake holders in a bucket, pressing them into a Styrofoam block hidden in the bottom to display each pussy cake to perfection. It was a masterpiece of erotic pastry. I glanced at it with pride while surreptitiously adjusting my cock with my free hand.

"Oh my fuck!" said a tall woman holding a squirming purse. Her hand lingered a couple of inches away from the elevator button while she gawked openly at me. Either my dick was bleeding through my pants again or she'd never seen cupcakes before - there was no way she could be that offended over seeing a guy rearrange his junk. Her purse was making me nervous - what the hell was in there?

"Up, please," I muttered, hand still on crotch. She didn't make a move to press the button, even though my hands were obviously full. A tiny dog poked its head out of her bag and craned its neck, licking its chops hungrily as the heavy scent of buttercream filled the elevator. "Jeez, I'm not going to rape your Chihuahua, lady. Just press the goddamn button!"

Needless to say, I had to wait for another elevator to take me to the tenth floor after the woman threatened me with her dog if I didn't. My crap detective work had uncovered that Isabella worked in the media department of Ogilvy, some big time advertising agency. I wasn't sure what her job entailed, but hopefully her employer wouldn't be opposed to a pastry drop off.

"Delivery," I said with as much authority as I could muster when I reached the media department reception desk. "It's for Isabella Swan."

The receptionist, a wan redhead with huge, brown glasses, looked about as impressed by me as the dog lady did, but at least she wasn't staring at my crotch. "Is Ms. Swan expecting you, _sir_?" She eyed the cupcakes suspiciously.

"Er...well, no. I don't need to...see her, that is. I'm just delivering this...these cakes to her." It occurred to me that perhaps my plan sucked ass. Also, I had neglected to write her a card to let her know of my intention to court her. "There's a message. May I borrow a pen and paper?"

"Um, sure...I'll just buzz her for you."

"No, wait!" Jeez, I was a sweaty mess, and when I looked down I noticed there was a suspicious buttercream stain on the crotch of my pants. "I just need to write the note."

I shifted from one foot to the other, wincing as my pants chafed across the piercing. My knees started to feel weak, so I set the pot in which the stems rested on the reception desk and blew out a few quick breaths.

"Oh my god, are those..." Her eyes narrowed as she gripped the edge of the desk.

"Labia," I confided proudly. "Look at how lifelike the clitoral hood - "

"Oh my god!" The receptionist repeated her words as if I'd pissed on the floor. She threw a pen and notepad at me, which I managed to catch, and picked up the phone. "They don't pay me enough for this shit," she muttered.

She slammed the phone down. "Look, Ms. Swan isn't picking up her office phone, and you can't leave these here. This is a place of business!" she hissed, looking furtively around the waiting area. "What if the brand manager from IKEA notices them?"

"Uh, I'm sure they have pussies in Sweden." I offered her a helpful smile, wondering what her problem was.

She gasped in a breath and turned purple. "This is not happening. Okay, so I need to get you and these... " she fluttered her hand at the bouquet, and I pulled them off the desk to make sure she didn't accidentally touch them and mess up the buttercream, "away from here. Just... god, deliver them to her office yourself. Head back the corridor behind me, second office on the left."

I considered asking her if she needed medication when her hands started spastically waving in front of her, but the second I leaned toward her, she squeaked and tried to smack me with the phone receiver. Shielding the delicate buttercream pussies, I backed away and waddled quickly toward the hallway, each step a torturous assault on my fragile dick.

Isabella's office was a small, poorly-lit closet with a desk piled high with papers. I carefully cleared a spot on her desk and placed the bouquet down, bleating pitifully when I accidentally brushed the front of my pants against her inbox. Thank god she wasn't around to witness my whining. She asked me for a pierced penis; the least I could do is take it like a man. After a moment's thought, I hastily scrawled a message for Isabella on the paper the weird receptionist had tossed at me.

_Isabella,_

_You really inspired me to create this special bouquet just for you. I'd like to see you again. Maybe we can go to the mall or go bowling? I hope you like the cupcakes - I worked hard to make the labia perfect, just like you. I know how much you like buttercream, so please enjoy._

_Please call me at (212) 555-9871._

_Yours,_

_Edward Anthony Cullen, IV_

"Ms. Swan!" The receptionist's voice carried down the hallway, and I panicked, dropping the pen on the floor. There was no way in hell I was going to try to bend down to get it, and I didn't want Isabella to find me in her office. I looked around wildly for a place to hide since getting out of the her without passing by the reception desk, where Isabella clearly was, wasn't a viable option. The copy room across the hall seemed as good a place as any to which to escape, so I crab-walked out of Isabella's closet as fast as I could and flattened my back against the wall just inside the door of the copy room.

I leaned my head away from the wall and peeked out into the hallway just in time to see a cloud of dark brown hair whiz past and turn into Isabella's office. Fuck! A loud thump and then the sound of a squeak issued from across the hall. I clawed at the molding around the door and pulled myself over so I could just make out Bella's slight form slumped against the wall, her titties heaving and breathing in deep, shuddering sniffs with her nose positioned just over the cupcake nearest to her.

My dick immediately sprang to life, sending a lightning bolt of searing torment from my feet to my watering eyeballs and back again as I tried to stifle my yelp of pain. My hand immediately rammed down my pants, frantically pulling the fleece pants away from my throbbing head. The receptionist from the front desk swung through the door just at the moment I peered down to check for damage. She squealed, threw a handful of papers at me, and ran out like her ass was on fire.

I gingerly moved to walk after her, but my movement arrested when I stepped into the hallway. I was completely transfixed at the sight of Bella seated behind her desk, her tongue hungrily tickling the buttercream from the clitoris on the cupcake with the labia that resembled a butterfly's wings. She really got her face in there, a buttercream smudge on her eyebrow.

The sight of her eating out a cupcake pussy was enough to make me groan and palm my dick in the hallway, despite Butch's orders.

"Oh my god, call security!" I heard the receptionist yell, which snapped me out of my sex-starved stupor. I yanked my hand out of my pants as gently as I could while shuffling down the hallway at top speed - an ambling, geriatric pace this time. It was enough to get me past the screeching receptionist and into the elevator.

My shaking hands pressed the elevator for the lobby, and I groaned as the burning pain in my pants intensified, probably as a result of my harrowing escape from Isabella's office and the ill-advised hard-on that was still very much a problem.

That sweet, sweet angel obviously liked my tribute. My heart pounded in my chest as her visage appeared before me, her shirt already gone. A chorus of soul singers belted out "I Want Candy," Isabella swinging her hips to the rhythm. She slid her hands over her perfect titties and whispered the words I longed to hear her say: "Oh, Edward, you're so sweet, you make my mouth water."

So lost in my fantasy, I almost didn't hear my cell phone ringing. I fished it out of my front pocket, recoiling as my index finger touched my painful erection.

"Hello?"

Heavy breathing sounded into the phone. "Um, Edward? This is, er, Isabella Swan."

_What? Oh my god!_ I tried to lower my voice to a baritone and concentrate on keeping it from sounding spastic. "How did you enjoy my pussies?" I croaked. _Well, fuck!_

"I liked them...very much, Edward. I'm eating your pussy right now, in fact."

My poor, poor cock wiggled like a frightened little worm in response to that revelation. "How do they taste?"

"Good," she moaned into my ear, and my knees nearly buckled as a hot wave of lust overtook me.

"Yeah?" I rasped. "How good?"

"Sweet...mmm, Edward, your cream is so sweet. I'm licking it off my fingers and thinking about you beating the icing. Did you beat it?"

"I used a whisk," I explained like an asshole.

"Oh..." her voice fell.

"But I do, you know...beat it. Oh, fuck, Isabella. I can't help myself. I beat it all the time thinking about you."

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"You mentioned you'd like to go bowling?"

My cock couldn't possibly be in more pain than it was, but I could hardly summon the will to care. "I'd like to take you bowling, yes."

"Tomorrow... and Edward?"

I nodded, my breath caught in my throat. "Yeah," I exhaled.

"Bring me buttercream cock next time. I want to eat your cock."

* * *

**A/N:** So welcome to MacFlan, the new home of Bellacream/Bleedingdickward (ow). Random points of interest: BellaFlan totally tried to make a bouquet of pussy cookies last night and failed desperately, and mac has been fantasizing about apple butter. No, one thing has nothing to do with another. Please review us!

Thanks , by the way, for your fantastic response to chapter 1!

_Linkies to the titillating pastry genius referred to in chapter 2:_  
foodio54(DOT)com/getImg(DOT)php?user=59751 - bondage cake  
famgr(DOT)com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/c1(DOT)jpg - tittie cookies  
www(DOT)michellescakes(DOT)net/Thong%20Cake(DOT)JPG - thong cake  
estores(DOT)merchantpartners(DOT)com/pqkeb/images/cupcake%20bouquet(DOT)jpg - cupcake bouquet (not a pussy bouquet, alas)


	3. Chapter 3

"So... can I see it?" Carlisle was ogling my dick as he asked this. Not that I was a prude or anything, and considering my predilection for sugary genitals, I was certainly open to experimentation. However, my previous corporate work taught me a thing or two about human resource violations.

"Yeah, no. That's not in my contract." I sprayed glass cleaner over the display case at the front of the store while Carlisle continued to eye the crotch of my jeans with what could only be described as perverse curiosity.

"Why is there a bulge?" He walked up to me and lowered himself to his knees for a closer inspection.

_Because I'm well hung, pencil dick! _"It's nothing," I mumbled, turning my body away from his probing stare. Still on his knees, he crawled along with my futile pivoting, his eyes never leaving my junk.

"Is that a sock?" he asked, closing one eye for no reason I could fathom. He looked like a bi-curious pirate. "Dude, do you stuff?"

"Alright! If you must know, it's a maxi-pad." I squeezed my eyes shut as I said this. Over the past few days, there had been too much scrutiny over my dick. Sadly, that attention had not come from the only person from which it would have welcomed the abuse.

"Of course... a maxi-pad. Brilliant fucking idea." Carlisle was still inexplicably kneeling before me, and now he was trying to poke at my mangled cock with his index finger as I squirmed away.

"It stops your dick from bleeding? Sucks out the blood into the moisture-lock core?"

"Er, no... wait, what?"

"Like the blue liquid in the commercial," Carlisle clarified. "You know, the one with wings. Does yours have wings? I'm all kinds of curious about the wings, but Esme uses tampons. Not that I asked. Women like to share that shit. Talking is supposed to be healthy, she says, but dude, sometimes I just want to shut that bitch up, you know, with my cock. So can I see your cock?"

"Oh my god, stop talking." I went so far as to cover my ears and start singing "Coming to America" simply because it was the first song that popped into my head, and I was pretty sure I'd be fired if I kicked my boss in the face. Between his laughing and my sad Neil Diamond impersonation, both of us failed to notice a customer had entered the shop.

"Shh," Carlisle hissed before snorting out a good guffaw. He turned his head in the direction of the door, nearly catching me in the zipper with his nose, and said, "Welcome to the Pink Cookie. What kind of erotic delicacy are you interested in?"

"Aw, fuck!" I swore and grabbed Carlisle by the scruff of his neck. "Get up; it's Black."

Jake Black, the health inspector - the very same health inspector who had already visited us on three previous occasions this month alone - glared at us with an air of superiority. Only true assholes had the power to inspire this level of venomous ire in me.

"I'm sure I'm not interested in the kind of delicacy you're sniffing at."

"I dunno, you seem to be a cocks-" I kneed Carlisle in the man tit to shut him up.

"What do you want, Black?" I asked wearily, wincing from all that sudden movement. My dick still ached a bit.

He laughed. "Oh, nothing. This is just a social call. You know I just can't get enough of watching you guys handle all those dicks."

"Really?" Carlisle finally decided to stand up. He blew messy blond strands of hair out of his eyes, only to have them flop back down over his greasy nose. I quickly dug a hairnet out of my pocket and buried it into his fist, giving him a panicked stare. Oh fuck! I was wearing my whites outside of the kitchen - a clear violation.

"Yeah, not really. I'm here because of a complaint. Apparently, Eddie-boy's been making obscene pastry deliveries all over the west side while creaming his own twinkie."

"What? No! That's not true. I wasn't… creaming my anything. I made only one delivery this week, and it was to Ogilvy… oh..." I pounded my skull against the display counter, careful not to slam too hard so I didn't disturb the the petits fours I'd decorated with tiny clitorises earlier today. The glass barely shook under my revelation-fueled headbutt. _It's the fucking screwball receptionist!_ She must have seen the company logo on the cellophane wrapping of Isabella's pussy bouquet. That perfect, pink seashell of a cookie in the shop logo was hard to miss.

"It was a misunderstanding," I explained lamely.

"So you weren't touching your dick while handling cake?" The asshole's left eyebrow danced, rising and falling into a formation that resembled a convulsive hairy caterpillar. "Apparently there's video from the CCTV cameras to support these accusations." What the fuck was going on with that eyebrow? It had gone berserk as it stretched further away from his lid. Maybe it had gained sentience, and having realized it was attached to a dickhead, was preparing to jump off his face. _Don't do it buddy! You have so much to live for._

"Technically speaking," I started. Carlisle threw me a look of warning, clearly begging me to come up with some fantastic story. "...no, I wasn't rubbing my dick. Exactly the opposite, actually - I was trying to prevent my dick from rubbing against my pants. Is there something wrong with your eyebrow?"

Black's grin contorted into an embarrassed grimace, and he covered the peculiar furry creature with his hand and mumbled, "None of your fucking business."

"Alright, it's just that I swear your eyebrows have gotten hairier since you first walked in, and-"

"Eddie just got his shaft maimed," Carlisle interrupted rather helpfully. He laughed while tactfully fisting a wad of cash into the asshole's hand. "And he did it for a girl," he added in a stage whisper.

"Not my shaft..." I said and opened my pants. "It's an Albert, see?"

"Oh, dude, that's sick!" Carlisle cheered enthusiastically.

"Why is there a maxi pad stuck to your dick?" Black asked, truly confounded but clearly fascinated. He took a few steps closer and bent over to inspect it until I skittered backward and almost fell over a display of ejaculating cream puffs.

"It keeps everything cushioned and clean." I explained. "It's dry weave."

-({})-

Isabella wanted to meet at the Cookie, even though I was more than happy to pick her up from her office. She kindly explained that I was now banned from the building. Apparently, there was a picture of me posted in the lobby. Isabella told me she liked the picture - that I looked nice.

I didn't want to look _nice._ I wanted to look dangerous and sexy and hot, like a man who could give her an unreasonable number of orgasms and make her come on command... well, actually that seemed more like a parlor trick than a talent. _Step right up, witness as Edward Cullen makes Isabella Swan explode into orgasm at the mere mention of the word "come."_ I couldn't even get my dog Embry to come on command, and Isabella was no dog. She was Jenna Jameson and Audrey Hepburn and Princess Leia, all rolled into the perfect pussy. I wanted to immortalize her in cream.

Mmm. I could see her, spread before me, all wet and pink and fragrant. She would look at me with those wide, dark eyes, pleading for me to taste her. Fuck, my cock hardened thinking about her eyes, remembering the desperation in them when we first met, and she smelled the buttercream on my mouth. She seemed so hungry for a taste. I was hungry, too. And then I realized it wasn't hunger that was gnawing at my stomach; it was the fucking pain from the ring in the head of my dick catching on the inside edge of my zipper.

I cringed, shifting my hips and shaking my leg to try to move things around in my pants. I'd decided to stop wearing the maxi-pads after I lost the last one at the gym earlier in the day. It had been a gut-wrenchingly mortifying experience to be in the middle of a strip aerobic class and have this stupid pad shoot out of my shorts and land on the instructor's foot. Why I had thought I was ready to work out while my dick still bleeding was a testament to exactly how anxious I was about Isabella seeing me - my gut was a little soft from all the cookie dough and marzipan testicles I'd been taste-testing.

That was partly why I was lurking outside of Isabella's office. Not only because I could stand to lose a few pounds before our date, but because I needed to know more about her. Isabella was my dream girl... my angel... my big tittied soul mate... and I had to find out more about what she liked. Other than buttercream and pierced dicks, that is.

"I want to eat your cock," I could hear her whispering in my head. _Oh, Isabella, you will, you will._

I'd only been hiding behind a giant topiary for an hour when I got a glimpse of Isabella's brown hair careen out of the building from which I'd been banned. I followed her, utilizing all the super spy skills I'd read about in the 1988 issue of _Score _- that was a collectors edition; the section on stealth surveillance was useful - in order to go unnoticed, ducking abruptly behind newspaper stands and crouching behind tall dudes as Isabella walked down the street. She stopped in front of a bakery once, and I watched from the safety of the side of a bubble tea truck, peeking around the corner of it, as her eyebrow twitched uncontrollably. Unlike Black's beast worms, her brows were alluring, tempting the sweets in the window with their come hither swagger. Was she cheating on me? My guts roiled at the thought.

Fantasy Bella whispered to me again, rubbing her titties against my back. "I want to suck buttercream off your enormous penis." I groaned and palmed my dick. The Asian woman inside the truck started screaming at me in a foreign language, "Kutabare...Ikinasai!" I jolted backwards into a mailbox, still shielding my crotch as she vaulted out the back of the truck and began whacking me with a sleeve of plastic cups.

"Stop hitting me!" I screeched under the barrage of blows. "My dick hurts!" Why was everyone so interested in my junk all of a sudden? I would never hurt a woman, but the chick was coming at me with a stinging ferocity only tiny little women can have, and I was worried for the safety of my cock.

"Penisu!" She said the word like a war-cry, and even _I_ understood that one. I had to keep it safe for Isabella. I ducked and weaved, defended and parried, eventually escaping down the sidewalk. Luckily, my beautiful, buttercream-craving angel was still in sight.

I still didn't understand what I'd done to piss off the bubble tea woman. Maybe I would bring her some of my new vulva cookies tomorrow and apologize. I hated to have anyone angry at me. I could even hide little fortunes inside the lips.

Isabella ducked into a coffee shop, and I bought a newspaper from the stand outside, hiding behind the expanse of the paper. It was only through sheer luck I didn't run into anything in the shop, which would have been unfortunate since I was sure any more trauma to my poor cock would have resulted in screaming and writhing.

I peeked over the corner of the paper. Isabella was sitting with an emaciated short girl with dark hair that resembled an electrocuted porcupine. The girl was gesticulating wildly, and I was hoping neither of them would notice as I eased into the seat just behind Isabella.

My dick was all but forgotten when I heard Isabella say, "...bowling tomorrow. What am I going to do, Alice?"

"So, you're meeting him at this bakery?" For being such a small girl, this Alice person had the deepest voice I'd ever heard on a woman. It was a gravelly baritone, and I wondered if she was really a man. I should hook her-him up with Black. "And he doesn't know about the dentophilia?"

Isabella moaned, a sound that struck right through my heart. I had an old copy of _Hustler _- the February 1972 issue, perhaps - with an article about how the tone of a woman's moans could indicate the depth of her vagina. The science always seemed suspect to me, but I didn't let that bother me. Oh, no. Hearing Isabella make those noises had her phantom Doppelganger prancing through the coffee shop in nothing but a Princess Leia slave costume, undulating her hips in time to the sound of the rhythmic whir of the coffee bean grinders. It was kind of odd - the real Isabella sat behind me, and the dream Isabella slowly peeled off her bra and tossed it at me before wetting the tip of her finger with her tongue and drawing lazy circles around her perky, perfectly-colored nipples. It was almost enough to distract me from... what the hell was dentophilia?

"No. I don't know how he could have missed it, though. Jesus, Alice, I was a fucking spaz." She sounded so distressed that I nearly blew my cover and pulled her into my arms. "Oh, god, Alice, I can't help myself. I want him to fill my cavities! I've never wanted to be drilled so desperately in my life."

My breath caught, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bargaining with my dick to keep calm... or at least not explode out of my pants like the Incredible Hulk.

"Okay, remember the breathing exercises your shrink taught you. Iiiiiiiiiiiiinn and ooooooout - that's right."

Oh, Jesus. I would slide in and out of my Isabella's mouth. I was her edible, pierced prince... with a Prince Albert and gallons of buttercream.

"I just went in there to get some sweets, and I want his buttercream cock, and after I ate his pussy, my god..."

"I thought you went in there to order something for my bachelorette party?" Who the hell would marry someone with a voice like that? Damn.

"I did! But oh my fucking god, Alice! He delivered these perfect cupcakes shaped like twats, and there was so much buttercream. I almost got fired for rubbing myself against the cupcakes, and - "

"Wait. You what?"

Yeah, what she said. My dick sprang to life, forcing it to bend in half painfully. Tears ran down my face as I jumped out of my seat, frantically clutching at my crotch, and hobbled out onto the sidewalk to avoid outing myself with screams of pain. I caught sight of myself in the glass window of the next shop - I resembled a slightly less sane Gary Busey. I'd wanted to look dangerous, and now I most certainly did. Hot and sexy, well, not so much.

-({})-

I boned up on dentophilia, thanks to Google. It was a sexual obsession with dentistry; the buttercream thing was just an added bonus, as near as I could guess. Armed with my new-found knowledge, I waited for Isabella the next day at the Cookie. I didn't bother to shower after my shift, since the remnants of pastry sweets seemed to inspire very positive reactions in her. Hell, with that thought in mind, I even dabbed a little buttercream behind my ears after I changed out of my whites. I wanted to make her happy. _Really_ happy. I even made her an extra-special, miniature version of the pierced buttercream cock she'd ordered - modelled after myself, of course.

All day, I was near mad with anticipation. Of course, Carlisle's inappropriate curiosity didn't help, as he kept sneaking glances at my crotch while I frosted. My current project involved sculpting a perfect asshole for the boys from the strip club "Her Master Bade Her." Not that I was losing my love for the art of sphincter sculpture, it was just that with Black popping up now and then, there were already enough assholes in the bakery.

"What?" I growled at Carlisle.

"Dude, your bulge is gone."

"I didn't want to freak her out."

"Who?"

"Who do you think?" I asked crossly, fingering my sweet cock. "Isabella."

"Oh. Yeah. But what if your dick bleeds out? I mean, you're going bowling, right? Esme made me go bowling once, and I got a nice blow job out of the deal for agreeing. Think you'll get a blow job? I bet that spastic girl gives great blow jobs. All the crazy ones do."

I clenched my fists. "Will you shut up?" Isabella was not crazy - she was my sugary soul mate.

"Huh. I guess that's probably a bad idea, right? I watched some show on the Discovery Channel once that said the human mouth has, like, 3,000 different kinds of bacteria in it. Hey, if this chick goes down on you, I bet your dick will shrivel up and fall off. That'd be neat!"

The front door pushed open, and Isabella walked tentatively into the shop, her lips pressed into a tight line and her cheeks puffed out like she was holding her breath. My eyes were immediately drawn to the red, sparkly bowling ball bag she carried. Holy crap. She had her own bowling ball; that was so fucking hot.

I smiled at her and approached carefully. "Isabella. So good to see you again."

Her eyes flitted to the display case to my right. Her mouth slowly opened, and her little pink tongue shot out, licking at her upper lip. "Are those cannoli? The pubic hair is so life-like."

* * *

**A/N:** Uh, no, Dentophilia probably isn't the correct psychological terminology, but when we're doling out the cake and porn, we feel it's our right to make shit up every now and then. Many thanks for your response to chapter two. It makes us happy to know there are so many warped fans of buttercream.

Thanks to Amydee for starting a thread over at Twilighted for Sweet Tooth! Please join us there and share your favorite erotic pastry photos. Call it motivation or research... we just like to look at peens and boobies. You can also pick up the code for our brand-spanking new Sweet Tooth blinkie (thanks, Ms. Ambrosia!). Pink Cookie, anyone?

Asian speech is Japanese in the Romanji alphabet.  
Kutabare...Ikinasai! = Fuck you...go away!  
Penisu = Americanized slang for cock

Oh, and here's the asshole cake:  
http:/mirror(DOT)servut(DOT)us/kuvat/meinung/ass_cake(DOT)jpg  
Disclaimer: No, the above not did not read "here's the cake, asshole."

Thanks to Askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and to JewelzP, our prereader. And thanks to Viola Cornuta for pinch hitting as a beta for this chapter.

Lastly, we'd like to remind you that voting for the Golden Lemon Awards ends on August 30, and both BellaFlan and Mac214 have been nom'd. Mac's up for Most Creative Position and Best Cockblock for Relative Wind, and you can vote for Flan in the Best Dirty Talk category for Becoming Bella Swan. 


	4. Chapter 4

I wasn't a motherfucking psycho... I mean, sure, I was prone to the odd fantasy and inappropriate hallucination or two, but what the fuck was up with everybody's eyebrows lately? Isabella's eyebrow hadn't stopped twitching since we'd left the Cookie. Was it just nerves? She seemed so ill at ease, although her eyebrow had been throbbing that first time I'd met her, too. Maybe it meant she was horny? I attempted to push my hips forward to show off my package, but that hurt my dick.

I'd wanted to stay at the shop for at least a few minutes and give her a tour – I thought she'd appreciate the artistry of the clitoris petits fours – but Carlisle had started asking whether she preferred winged maxi-pads or regular and then asked if she'd explain exactly how moisture-lock core technology worked.

I'd shot him a dirty look and abruptly escorted Isabella out onto the sidewalk. My big-tittied angel deserved to be treated like a queen, not like a fucking walking encyclopedia of feminine hygiene.

"So, uh, Isabella. Did you like my cock?" She was still licking the buttercream off the tip of her nose. God, I fucking loved a messy eater.

"Sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to make a pig of myself. It's just...the taste, Edward." She closed her eyes and threw her head back. "So good."

I stifled the groan that threatened to rumble out of my chest and delicately brushed away stray cream she'd managed to smear on her eyebrow. Instantly, the sweet little thing started twitching like crazy again. Fuck, I wanted to lick that naughty little brow. My cock nodded in agreement.

"You didn't make a pig of yourself! I'm happy you enjoyed it so much. Makes me hopeful you might like the model just as much as-"

Butch flew by like a manly little Tinker Bell, wagging his finger in disapproval. "No fluids except your own!" His pink wings fluttered behind him, leaving silver fairy dust in his wake.

"Pansy-ass cake-eater," I grumbled.

"Me?" Isabella's lips quivered slightly in rhythm with her brow spasms.

"Oh, no, no, not you at all." Stupid fairy. In the pit of my balls, I feared Butch had become my ultimate cockblock. Who would have thought jamming a metal staff through my urethra and out my cockhead would turn out to be a bad idea? Not that I could afford to regret it. Isabella would be so pleased... wow, what the hell was up with her eyebrow?

She leaned closer to me, brushing her titty hard-ons against my arm. Too bad it wasn't warmer outside - less clothes sounded good. My balls ached at the thought of Isabella touching any part of me with her bare skin, and the ache became positively unbearable at the prospect of actually seeing even a glimpse of her naked flesh.

Fantasy Isabella materialized to my left, teasing me with a small palette of flavored buttercream in a rainbow of colors. Oh yeah, it was a full range of the fucked up figments of my imagination today. She hiked her shirt up to expose her perfectly-hued nipples and mashed the board against her tits, smooshing it around and sending bits of icing splattering onto the sidewalk.

"Show me the prince, Edward. I want to paint you in buttercream. Mmm, I want to eat your cock." Fantasy Isabella swirled her tongue around the head of my dick, flicking the inflamed skin on the underside of the steel ring.

"Oh, Edward, I want your giant, pierced cock right heeeeeeeeeeeeeere," she moaned, tossing the palette away and running her fingers down the middle of her sternum before sandwiching her tits between her hands.

"Yeah, you like eating that cock, don't you?" To my utter terror, I realized I'd spoken those words aloud.

"Oh my god, of course." The real Isabella to my right answered, licking the remnants of the miniature cock cake off her fingers. Fantasy Isabella faded away, thankfully – I didn't think I had the attention span or the mental stamina to take them both on at once. As it was, my dick was already half hard in my pants. The piercing aftercare instructions state that for nipples, a sports bra is recommended to keep the piercing out of harm's way. With Isabella's titties hugging my arm like two luscious eclairs, my dick was most certainly in danger of serious injury. What was the equivalent of a sports bra? A jock strap, I supposed. It might even be just the thing to keep the maxi-pad in place. Maybe I'd order one online – I didn't really have time for shopping. "How did you get the piercing to look so… "

My own piercing was now snaking up the inside of my pants as my dick swelled, and the angle was pressing it to the side, an uncomfortable, stinging sensation making me lightheaded. "Edible?" I squeaked out, sweat breaking out across my brow.

"No, _real_! God, I just gobbled it right up. And the smell, holy god, the smell. I love buttercream." Her face was a combination of dreamy contemplation and wanton desire. I recognized her look from the December 2001 Playboy centerfold. I hoped Isabella's hobbies didn't include dressing up her pets, too, like the centerfold professed to enjoying; that just seemed creepy.

I held the door of the bowling alley for her, and after she moved through, I shoved my hand down my pants to move my cock back to a less excruciating position. The relief was immediate, although my dick was still hard as a rock. I didn't care what Butch said – whether you liked cock or pussy, it was impossible to stay limp. My cock wanted Isabella, and I wanted Isabella licking buttercream off it, like she promised.

"We need a lane," Isabella requested of the guy behind the counter. He glared at me with absolute disgust. I stared back in bewilderment. What the hell?

"Lane 2," he spat. "But dude, you have to wash your hands first. I don't know what kind of nastiness you've got going on in your pants, but we run a clean operation here."

_Fuck! _What the hell was wrong with everyone lately? It wasn't as if I came up with a handful of pus.

"Look," I leaned over and read his nametag, "Emmett... my date and I would just like to bowl. I'll certainly be washing my hands. I likely have remnants of buttercream on them. See?" I held my hands out to him, and he backed away quickly.

Isabella practically snatched one of my hands and held it up to her nose, breathing deeply. She moaned and licked my palm with her wet tongue. _Oh my god!_ The sensation was incredible, better than anything I'd ever felt - even better than that time I fell asleep on the couch and dreamed I was the lucky recipient of a blow job from a very young Margaret Thatcher. Honestly, she was a very handsome woman with bigger titties than one would expect. Oh, she was friskier too, sucking on my balls like they were gum drops, all the while, letting out these soft little whines. It wasn't until I was awakened by my alarm clock that I noticed Embry had been licking my balls while I slept, probably because he no longer had his own pair to tongue. _Fuck_, that dream was so hot it took me a good twenty seconds after waking up to realize it was my fucking _dog _licking my junk, not the lovely Prime Minister.

Truthfully, my relationship with Embry had been a little strained ever since. _Hm, maybe I should bake him a doggie cake_. There was a Boxer, Lee-lee, in the apartment next door, and Embry really liked to sniff her ass. Maybe I could design a small cake featuring Lee-lee in an erotic pose, although I wasn't sure what constituted erotic to a dog... doggy style was obviously out.

"You both are sick fucks. Just… take lane two, would ya'?" He wrinkled his nose in disgust and pointed behind him. "Try to keep the freaky stuff to a minimum. There are kids here, for god sakes!" Isabella slipped my index finger into her mouth and sucked so hard I thought she might detach my skin. My eyes rolled back into my head, and I tried not to moan.

Making sure to flash the guy my toothiest smile, I thanked him. He retreated even further and muttered something under his breath.

I vowed to deliver some special treats to the bowling alley tomorrow. The Asian lady from the food truck yesterday had reacted to my gift of vulva cookies with silence. She'd kind of looked frightened, but I figured she was just grateful to clear up the misunderstanding.

By the time I had rented a pair of shoes, washed my hands, and joined Isabella in our lane, she was bent over her bowling ball bag. The sight of her round ass staring at me stopped me in my tracks. "Touch me!" it shouted at me. Or, at least I think it did - it might have been a fart or a queef or something.

_Now, Eddikens_, I heard my mother's voice in my head, reprimanding me. _Ladies don't fart; they toot!_

Isabella was, first and foremost, a lady. She was a buttercream licking, dentophiliac _lady_. I wanted to grab her ass and feel its warm fleshiness, but it didn't seem appropriate for the first date. _You're trying to woo her_, I reminded myself. I should have brought her more than one mini cock replica.

Her ass wiggled and winked at me as I watched, mesmerized. She whirled abruptly, a polka dotted bowling ball in her hands. Each dot sported a realistic-looking nipple. I leaned forward in surprise and blinked my eyes several times; the nipples had disappeared from the dots and were replaced by tiny pink elephants.

"Do you like my ball?" she asked shyly, her eyebrow now at relative peace. "I didn't know if I should bring it or not. I mean, you must think I'm a complete spaz, having my own ball. I think a custom bowling ball is a great creative outlet, don't you think?"

Wow, that was more than she'd ever said to me at one time without stuttering or twitching. She smiled expectantly at me, and I nodded enthusiastically because I totally knew what she meant.

"Oh, yes, it's just like the rum balls! I'm planning a series of special balls for the holidays this year - tiny, hand-painted assholes, vulvas, and lips. Sort of the triumverate of cavities to be filled."

Isabella stopped and hugged the ball to her puffy, heavenly rack. "Cav-cavities?" she stuttered. "Oh god, drilling..." She closed her eyes and bit her lip, breathing heavily through her nose. She counted to ten in a whisper and straightened her shoulders, her eyes popping open. "Er... no, uh. Well, that sounds nice. Will you be using buttercream at all? Oh! No... no, wait. Don't tell me. Tell me about your balls, er, no... I mean, do you like bowling balls?"

"That's a very pretty ball you have there." I tried to hard not to think about fucking her, but then her tongue darted out to moisten her full lips; fuck, she was luscious.

"Her name is Rosalie," she said proudly, extending the ball to me.

"You named your ball?" I instantly regretted the surprise in my voice.

"Yeah," she whispered, pulling Rosalie out of my reach. "I did... I... I'm not normal." Before I could speak, she dropped the ball on her foot and said nothing, nothing at all. She didn't even cry out a little bit from the pain. Wow, what a brave girl. I mean, she totally just dropped a ten pound ball on her foot. That had to have hurt, right?

"Isabella? Doesn't your foot hurt?"

She nodded her head and turned a little green.

"Are you alright?"

"Motherfucker!" she screamed suddenly and fell to the floor. "Jesus fucking crow!"

_Okay, I guess that's a delayed reaction._ "Let me see your foot," I pleaded and lowered myself to the ground in front of her. She shook her head, and I saw tears fall out of her eyes, my poor, sweet angel. "Trust me, please, Isabella? I just want to see if anything's broken."

"It's not broken. It just hurts."

I smiled, hoping it was attractive, not creepy. "Well, maybe I should rub it then."

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

"You're apologizing for hurting your foot?"

"It was bound to happen. I'm bad luck, Edward. Everything about me is a freakshow."

I wiped the tears out of her eyes with my thumbs. "You are not," I whispered. "You're the most beautiful, perfect woman I've ever seen."

"You need to get your eyes checked," she snuffled. "Okay, you can look at my foot." I was transfixed by her eyes, all dark and wide. Her pupils seemed to dilate, and she dragged her pink tongue across those luscious lips I'd been lusting after. Oh, this had to be a signal! She wanted me to kiss her! Before I lost my nerve, I leaned forward to attack her mouth at the same time she decided to present me with her injured foot.

"It's doesn't hurt that badly," she said and thrust it toward me, effectively ramming me in the Albert.

"Fuck! My Cock!" I yelped, jumping onto my feet and palming my poor, throbbing dick. "Fuck, my cock!"

"What?" Isabella cried out. "What happened? Wait, what did you say?" She rubbed her foot and stood up carefully, hobbling over to me and grasping my hand. "Fuck my cock?"

"It's aching," I said pathetically.

"Well," she said slowly. "Maybe I should rub it then."

* * *

**A/N:** You guys are all sick fucks for reading this. You know that, right? Big huge love to askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and to JewelzP, our prereader. Oh, to you – because even though you're a sick fuck, we wrote this shit… and sick fucks like good company! Thanks for laughing along with us!

If you like Mac and Flan, be sure to read our other stuff too (find our individual profiles: BellaFlan and mac214). Oh, and every time you review us, a man gets his cock pierced… by Butch.

Want to see Bella's bowling ball? Well, you know, without the nips or the elephants… http:/bit(DOT)ly/9WjNp7


	5. Chapter 5

Holy fuck, did my big-tittied dream girl suggest she rub my cock, or was I having another psychotic episode? I listened carefully for the telltale signs, but there was no inspirational eighties montage music playing, Isabella was fully clothed, and Tinkerbell-Butch wasn't pansying about sprinkling fairy dust.

"What… you want to… what?"

"Rub your co-"

"Get the fuck out of here, you sick freaks!" The burly one called Emmett shouted and waddled over, his gut pushing his pants dangerously low on his corpulent frame with each labored step. It was obscene. I glared, about to demand to speak to his manager when I remembered I was cupping my junk. I took a couple of delicate swipes at my pants to soothe the ache just to the left of my frenulum and dropped my hand to my hip.

"This is just a misunderstanding," I explained, considering what kind of delicacy I could make for Emmett to smooth things over. He was obviously fond of sweets. Maybe he'd like some donuts with holes made to look like vaginal openings. Just thinking about it gave me a great idea to use cherry jelly to make the donut holes virginal, but maybe it would look too much like menstrual blood... then again, different strokes and all that. Carlisle would bust a nut when I added them to the rotation at the Cookie.

"Out. Now!" Emmett's hand formed into an angry fist, his knuckles turning blue where the skin was stretched tightly. Well, _fuck_. I really didn't want Isabella to see me get my ass kicked, and I doubted I had the intestinal fortitude to keep my dick out of the way while Jabba the Hutt pounded on me.

"We're leaving. Just give us a minute. My date's injured her foot." I searched Isabella's face for any signs of distress. "Can you walk?" I managed to ask softly, and she nodded, still clutching the sleeve of my coat.

Emmett growled like an angry bear and shambled away, pulling up his jeans. "If you're not out in five minutes, I'm calling the cops."

I couldn't speak or think. Isabella held onto my hand as if she was afraid to let go of it. She winced as she shifted her weight onto her sore foot and grabbed my forearm.

"Your hands are so strong," she sighed, pushing her soft cheek against my wrist. Her eyebrow started twitching again; I probably hadn't gotten all the buttercream off my fingers.

"I beat my dough a lot," I babbled, even though it wasn't what I had intended to say. "I mean, I roll a lot of cock." I lowered my chin, wishing I could disappear beneath the collar of my coat. A mortified and completely unmanly whimper escaped my throat.

"I'd like to see that. I bet no one rolls dough like you do." Isabella hobbled, her round ass jiggling with each step, over to Rosalie and placed her back into the bag, zipping it shut. She turned toward me and chewed her lip thoughtfully before asking, "Do you like pie, Edward?"

"Yeah," I rasped, trying to keep the situation in my pants under control; I was still thinking of Isabella's ass. "I could eat pie all day."

A lascivious grin spread across her lovely face, and she limped back over to me. The pain in my pants was all but forgotten, even though my cock was foremost on my mind. Time and space stood still as Isabella pressed her soft mouth against my hand, snaking that little pink tongue out along the inside of my wrist. Her eyebrow was spasming crazily. "You taste like candy and... buttercream… I want…"

"What do you want?" I held my breath for a minute and then shuddered out a groan as she slid her hand up my sleeve.

"I want…" She closed her eyes, a flurry of motion beneath her lids caused them to flutter in time with her brow. "Mmm, I want to know about the pie. What kind of pie do you like?"

"Chocolate," I said automatically, looking into her eyes as they popped open widely. "But I can do other_ fillings_." I emphasized the last word, anticipating the lust it would inspire in my sweet, perverted girl.

"Oh, god," she groaned. "Fillings."

I grasped the wrist of her free hand, pulling her closer to me. "My coconut cream pie is frothy and full-bodied," I whispered into her ear. She shuddered and drew in a deep, tremulous breath. It sounded like angels singing... something a lot like Anne Murray.

Emmett was leaning on the desk with a terrifying grimace on his broad face, his giant paw hovering over the phone. "We should go." I took the ball bag from her, offering her my hand. She slipped her fingers into mine and looked up at me, her forehead wrinkled.

"But we didn't get to bowl."

"I know, my little dumpling." Huh, dumplings. Perhaps Isabella would like cherry dumplings decorated with perky nipples. Maybe she'd let me see hers later... you know, for research. Oh, who was I kidding? I wanted to rip her shirt off and cram her nipples into my mouth. It would be glorious.

Fantasy Isabella peeked out from behind Emmett. "What about me?" she squeaked, pinching her bare nipples.

I shook my head, trying to clear it so I could concentrate on getting us out of the bowling alley before we got arrested. I doubted I could bail us out of jail with a plate of pussy lip macaroons.

"Er, we can do something else... if you'd like." I prayed she'd invite me back to her apartment for a nice of night of worshipping _her _pussy lips, since I couldn't do much of anything else with her just yet.

"Can we... I mean, would you... er, take me to your... uh, I mean... the... Pink Cookie?" She gulped and stared at me with wide eyes. "I really want to see you beat your dough."

Oh my fucking god. Could I do that... beat my dough in front of her? There were health regulations, not to mention the last time I went to the shop after hours I found Carlisle pounding into Esme in the deep freeze - a health violation all on its own. Isabella just looked so hopeful, though... and did I detect lust in her gorgeous brown eyes?

"Yeah, okay," I heard myself answering, although I definitely hadn't made a conscious decision. God, I hoped Esme wouldn't be wearing her inflatable sex frog costume again. Carlisle hadn't been able to adequately describe to me why she'd been wearing it... something about taking it up the ass and licking toads. I'd insisted on having the baking area thoroughly cleaned before I made the open lip tartlets the next day.

Her abrupt smile made me suck in a breath so deep I though my new cock ring got a breeze from it. She quickly turned and made a bee-line for the door, only limping a little. I scrambled after her as quickly as I could, only wincing a little as my piercing chafed against my pants. Rosalie banged weightily against my leg as I swung through the door, throwing Emmett a jaunty wave.

-({})-

I had breathed a sigh of relief to find the Cookie deserted when we arrived. I entered the combination on the alarm (6969) and shrugged out of my jacket, turning to help Isabella out of hers.

The florescent lights from the shop turned Isabella's milk-white skin slightly yellow. She looked as if she'd been dipped in lemon cake batter; I bet she tasted tart, too, like my very own citrus goddess. I started thinking about some sort of lemon or orange pastry I could make to honor her... sponge cake, maybe? She was all chocolates and lemons, sweet and tart and a complexity of flavors. I wanted her on my tongue so badly that my balls started to throb in a not entirely unpleasant manner.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked, looking genuinely confused as to why I'd be gawking at her.

"You're breathtaking." I told her honestly. "I feel very inspired when I'm around you. It's taking all of my willpower not to touch you."

Her eyebrow bounced furiously at my confession, and my cock nodded painfully in agreement. The light on her skin transformed from lemon yellow to nipple-pink as I took a step toward her before I lost my nerve. "I'm going to kiss you," I announced awkwardly. Her eyebrow became uncharacteristically still. "Would that be alright?"

Isabella didn't reply. She launched herself at me instead, pressing her breasts against my chest. I drew back my hips and covered my crotch just in time to protect it from her furious grinding. "My cock," I gasped.

She placed her hot palm over my dick-protecting hand and let out a whinny, pressing her soft mouth against mine. I had intended to offer her a sweet and slow kiss, but she forced my lips apart and rammed her tongue so far down my throat she might have licked my tonsils a little. In truth, I didn't quite understand what she was doing; I just hoped I was keeping up as her tongue thrust and parried and riposted against mine. Her arms and back seemed to stiffen with tension, her fingers pressing into my arms, maybe in desperation. When she groaned and it rang of disappointment, I started to wonder what I was doing wrong - what kind of reaction was she trying to coax out of me? She arched against my body, shoving her tongue impossibly further along mine to the point that it reflexively took on a defensive move to protect my throat. She huffed out a breath and pulled back.

"Please, Edward," she begged, pressing her hands so hard into my modest biceps that there would likely be finger-shaped bruises all over my upper arms tomorrow.

_Please what? Please fucking _what_? _I might have started to panic a little. Honestly, I had no clue what she wanted, but I was ready and willing to give her anything, no matter how strange the request.

I was ready for strange. I handled strange remarkably well, but what I did not know how to deal with was this complete and utter confusion.

"Anything," I told her. "I'll give you anything you want."

"Please," she whined and moved her hands across my chest, kneading my pecs like bread dough.

"Sure." I smiled and frowned and smiled again, frantically searching her reactions for the answer to what she desired because, I had to admit, I had no fucking clue.

"Please, Edward... please lick them."

Oh! She wanted me to lick something. Her pussy? Oh, god, please let it be her pussy. I lowered to my knees and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow into a question mark.

"What are you doing?" she asked, lifting me back up by the collar of my shirt.

"Er... well, I was..." She arched her eyebrow, waiting for me to complete a cohesive sentence. "I wasn't exactly sure about what you want me to lick."

Isabella dropped her gaze and turned pinker still, the exact color I'd imagined her sweet pussy might be, and heaved out a shaky sigh. "I... h-how..."

Feeling bold for no other reason than I was on my home turf, so to speak, I slid my finger under her chin and tilted her head up so she was forced to look at me.

"Isabella," I said, smiling gently at her and hoping I looked hot rather than deranged or flustered, which was exactly how I felt, "I'll give you whatever you can dream up, whether it's worshipping you on my knees or feeding you sweets."

"Oh!" Her eyebrow was pounding again, but she was rubbing up against my side like a cat in heat. "Sw-sweets are good. But..." How she could seem so shy while she was rubbing her delicious curves on me was a mystery.

I decided just to come clean and tell her I'd overheard her conversation with Alice. A girl like Isabella deserved my honesty. And if she was going to lick buttercream off my pierced dick, I might as well tell her the truth.

"I know," I told her, smoothing her eyebrow with my thumb. It felt like a mustache trying to attack my finger.

"You... know?"

"I know," I repeated. "You really like my cock."

"Is it... is it obvious?" she asked, sniffing at my neck. "I mean, I've always suspected I had 'a tell' of some kind."

I closed my eyes and tangled my fingers in her long hair. It felt like cashmere. "No, my sweet sugar lips, it's not obvious at all. But, you know, with the business I'm in... well, I can tell." Okay, so maybe I wasn't ready to admit to being a stalker yet.

"Wow." Isabella snuggled her nose into the crook of my neck, inhaling convulsively. "I... well, I really think you're the one for me. Maybe I'm being naive, but I believe you'll satisfy my sweet tooth."

"Teeth," I spouted like it was the word 'egad' and jumped to my feet. "I think I know what you need, Ms. Swan - wait right there."

I ran into the kitchen, threw on my white coat, and grabbed a bowl of buttercream from the fridge, fretting because I didn't have time to warm it to room temperature. Something told me Isabella wouldn't care if the frosting was too stiff; I was back in the front of the store within two shakes of my throbbing dick.

"Open your mouth, Isabella," I said clinically. "The doctor will see you now."

It was as if I just told her she'd won the lottery. Her eyes popped open, along with her mouth, and she squealed. Her eyebrow fluttered forcefully.

"Oh god... buttercream." She took a step closer, popping the top button of her shirt open. "Is that... oh my god, strawberry buttercream?" I couldn't tear my gaze away from the milk white curve of her tit in the vee of her shirt.

"Er... yeah. And either... well... you can eat all you want."

Her breath was coming so fast she was nearly panting, a small puddle of drool at one side of her mouth. "Can I have your cock?"

All of Butch's good advice about the health of my dick suddenly disappeared from my head. I stomped on Fairy Butch as he tried to get my attention. The day had come. My fantasies would come true. It was time.

I set the bowl of buttercream on the counter and grinned at Bella gratefully. "You don't even have to ask!" I shrieked, ripped open my pants and, in one smooth move that miraculously did not jostle my dick, yanked them down to my ankles.

I thanked the gods of pastry and erections that my cock was hard as a rock, even after all the trauma of being kicked out of the bowling alley. I pushed my groin out and proudly stood with my hands on my hips, smiling at Isabella who was now openly gaping at exposed bits.

"What the fuck is that?" she whispered, reaching out toward me with a shaking arm. Well, at least I thought she was trying to touch me. She may have just been going for the bowl of buttercream. I couldn't blame her - she had needs.

"Yeah, man, what the fuck is that?" I whirled around. Jake Black stood there with his official health inspector's badge out, leering at Isabella.

* * *

**A/N:** Uh… so, I think it's pretty obvious we're going a little longer than the six chapters we originally predicted, right? Both of us are enjoying the cake and porn a bit too much, and from the sounds of things, you're just as fucked in the head as we are… so it all works out nicely, no? Thanks for your reviews, PMs, Twitter pimpage, and recs. This little fic is fun to write to begin with; knowing you're, uh, titillated by ejaculating cream puffs and virginal donuts makes it even more fun.

Love and cherry-filled dumplings with nipple decorations to askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and JewelzP, our prereader.

You're dying to see Esme's sex frog costume, right? http:/www(DOT)wtfcostumes(DOT)com/inflatable_sex_frog_costume(DOT)php


	6. Chapter 6

_No, no, no!_ She was so close to touching me I could practically feel her on my shaft, and that caterpillar-browed motherfucker had to barge in on a beautiful and potentially humiliating moment. My cock deflated so quickly I was certain it looked like the air had been let out of a really, _really_ long balloon.

"Lucy," Black said in a crap Cuban accent, "you have some 'splainin' to do." The caterpillars kind of resembled these poisonous centipedes I had seen once on the Discovery Channel. Was it possible they were getting hairier? What was it with the Cookie and eyebrows?

"Er... yes, I suppose I do. This is clearly some sort of violation." I tried to count the health code violations I was committing, but the expression on Isabella's beautiful face suddenly distracted me. She didn't even seem to notice we'd been interrupted. She was gawking, open-mouthed at my cock. She looked _hungry_.

"Clearly," Jake said dully. He pocketed his badge and withdrew a notepad and camera from within his jacket. He scribbled something on the pad and looked lecherously at my Isabella. "Was he about to violate you, beautiful?"

"What?" My angel was still hypnotized by either the buttercream or my cock, barely glancing up at Black. "No," she stammered. "Oh, god, no. He's not... we're on a date." She was still reaching for me and my cream.

"What are you doing here?" Reluctantly, I shimmied back into my pants, stuffing my dick into my boxers as gingerly as I could manage. "I wasn't aware you bureaucratic types worked this late."

"I received a disturbing call from a source that there were people wearing strange costumes seen leaving the store. Everyone knows I have a special interest, shall we say, in the Cookie. I swung by to check out the situation." He scribbled more notes onto his pad; meanwhile, Isabella inched closer to me, her nostrils convulsing wildly. "The lights were on and the door was open, so..."

"The inflatable sex frog?" I asked wearily.

"No," Jake said, shuddering. "Hello Kitty in pasties and panties and some sort of anime character wearing a yellow, rubber banana hammock. They were caught on camera."

"Pokeman," I clarified, dropping my head into my palm. I had seen the costumes hanging up in the storage pantry and really didn't want to ask any questions. Why couldn't I work for a normal pervert, or at least the kind of deviant who knew how to keep his kink behind closed doors? It was becoming clear Carlisle and Esme wanted to get caught.

"Was that you in the picture, sweetheart? Your tits look bigger to me." Black stared openly at my angel's rack.

I briefly considered bludgeoning him to death with the cash register but instead blurted out, "Stop ogling my girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend?" Isabella squeaked and quit advancing on the bowl of frosting. "Am I your girlfriend, Edward?"

"Um..." I panicked and thrust the bowl of buttercream under her nose. She gasped and buried her face into the icing, bobbing her head up and down and moaning. When her tongue shot out and licked the rim, I nearly came.

"Fuck," Jake and I said in unison.

"Look, man," I said desperately, staring at Black's giant fucking eyebrows. "What's it going to take to get you out of here?"

Black was entirely focused on Isabella nearly going down on the bowl of buttercream. "I don't think you've got enough money."

"Get out, or I'll report I saw you doing it with Mrs. Cope." Mrs. Cope was the pruny, elderly owner of the ice cream shop next door.

"Oh my god, you know about that? I swear it was just that one time," he babbled. "Okay, well, maybe it was more than that. I just, well, she's lonely, and she reminds me of my Shar-Pei... and I-"

"Enough. I don't want to hear about you fucking your dog." I was biting the inside of my cheek to try to keep from laughing. Carlisle had said there was something going on with Mrs. Cope and Black - it was the only way he could explain how Mrs. Cope had never been fined, even though her plumbing was ridiculously faulty. "Just leave and forget you ever saw," I gestured toward my crotch and then Isabella, "any of this."

With one long, last look at Isabella, who was now sucking buttercream off her fingers, her eyebrow twitching so fast it was nothing but a blur, Black grimaced and opened the door. "Fine, but keep that monstrosity in your pants while you're in the shop."

"I'll see what I can do," I said, locking the door after he stepped out. Isabella looked up at me as I flicked out the overhead lights. The small lights over the counters were the only illumination in the shop, but even in the dim glow, I could see dollops of buttercream smeared across her chin, nose, and one cheek.

"Is he g-g-one?" she stuttered, her tits heaving. "I don't like him."

"Yes, my angel. He's gone. Did you like the buttercream?"

"Oh, yeah," she ground out tremulously. "Your cream is the best I've ever had."

"Do you want more?" My dick was stirring again now that the disgusting wrinkled-pussy-lover (canine or octogenarian) had left, my careful packing job coming to the rescue - the piercing wasn't chafing against anything on its ascent up the inside of my pants.

"Oh god, yes, Edward - please, give me more!" She clutched at the hem of her shirt, and I thought for a second she might tear it off, but she just wiped her hands there, leaving white streaks on the fabric.

I gently took the bowl from her reluctant hands and led her into the kitchen, flicking on the lights. Before our night continued, I checked the back door to make sure it was locked and propped a chair against the handle - I didn't want Esme or Carlisle busting into the shop dressed as, well, anything.

Isabella stood near my rolling station, wringing her hands. "Do you think think I'm a freak?"

"Oh, no, sugar booger," I answered, wetting a rag in the sink and wiping away the crusted frosting on her face. "In fact, I think you're right."

"About what?" Isabella's pink tongue shot out, licking her lips. I wanted to kiss her... not just her lips, but her rosy nipples and her, well... all of her. Every inch of her sweet, delectable skin.

"I think we're meant for each other."

"Am I your girlfriend, Edward?" she asked again.

"Er... well, I thought the pussy bouquet said it all."

"I did love your pussies," she said dreamily, her hands sliding down to rest on her stomach, just above her own pussy. "The taste of them..."

"If I provided pussy regularly, would you maybe want to... be my girlfriend?" I would give her all the pussy she could handle. She'd be knee deep - or lip deep, as it were - in buttercream-covered pussy.

"Pussy, cock, those pubic hair cannoli from earlier... yes."

I took her hands, pressing them to my lips, overwhelmed. "Your mouth will never be empty, my angel!"

"Er... Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Can I... see... _it_? You know, again?" She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit down.

"I got it pierced," I explained. "It's yours, Isabella, but please be gentle?" I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out for her. It throbbed under her watchful eye and lengthened to its previous glory.

"It's big," she marveled.

"Thank you." It twitched with pride.

"Can I touch it?" She took a couple of clumsy steps toward me, and I instinctively reached out to embrace her. One of my hands settled on her lower back while the other stroked her cheek. We both were looking down at my dick, watching as it bobbed insistently.

"Yes, please..." My voice rose an octave. "He really wants you to touch him."

She brought her tiny fingers to the head of my massive cobra and tickled it lightly. "He's friendly," she said shyly while I let out an obnoxious groan.

"He likes you."

"I like him. Edward?"

"Yeah," I gasped while she petted my trouser snake.

"Do you mind if I have a closer look?" Her eyes were still on my dick as she asked this. She licked her full lips and lowered to her knees.

"Oh, fuck."

There was something pink and sparkly waving a danger sign in my periphery. "Keep it out of mouths!" Fairy-Butch buzzed in my ear, and I swatted him out of existence. Isabella didn't seem to notice. She was too busy examining my Albert. Her pink tongue shot out of her mouth and, even though it nearly killed me to do so, I grabbed her head and stopped her.

"Wait," I said urgently. "You can't..."

"I'm sorry!" She jumped to her feet, stumbling away from me.

"No, darling. I really want you to, but I only just got it pierced." I took a step forward but she retreated.

"It's because I'm fat. No one wants to get a blow job from a fat chick."

"You're not... Isabella, you're beautiful. I want you so much I can't even stand it." My poor, sweet girl. Raging infections be damned! If she wanted to suck my cock, I wasn't going to stop her. I reached forward to pull her face back to my johnson, but she interrupted me.

"You just pierced it, like, this w-w-week?" she stammered, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes."

"Um, before or after we met?"

Oh, shit. She was about to find out how shamefully obsessed I was with her. "After," I said softly.

"So, you, uh, pierced it because..." she trailed off.

"For you." I laced my fingers through hers. "I was hoping that you'd want to be with me. You said you wanted an, um, enormous pierced cock, and, well... I wanted to give you what you wanted."

"Oh my... just like the cake for Alice's party."

"I named a cake after you, you know? I, er, I think the world of you, Isabella."

With a look of determination and morbid curiosity, she sank to her knees in front of me again and reached out a tentative finger, this time touching the piercing. The vibration of it both stung slightly and made my dick harder, the sensation travelling down my cock to nest in my balls.

"You really... er, did this for... well, me?" The nail at her fingertip drew down the skin of my shaft and back up, tracing the line of the mushroom head. She stopped when her finger met the ring in my dick and leaned forward, giving me an anxiety attack. Isabella stopped a few inches away from it, though, sniffing appreciatively. Her eyebrow was throbbing again. "Even your peen smells like buttercream."

"Oh," I squeaked. "I don't jerk off with the buttercream - I swear it!" Well, not after the first time.

She looked up at me, her dancing eyebrow raised questioningly. "So... does it... hurt?"

"Sometimes," I answered honestly.

"And I can't... er, tongue your peen..."

"Fairy Butch told me I wasn't allowed to have, uh, saliva on my cock for two to four weeks. You know, until the piercing heals? I can have sex in a few days, though" I added helpfully.

"Fairy Butch?"

"Oh, never mind."

Isabella shrugged. "So," she said slowly, her eyes glued to my dick, "this saliva... it's probably just, you know, around the piercing, right?"

"Huh. Well, I suppose you're right." Visions of Isabella sucking buttercream off my cock as she'd promised flitted through my head, followed by visions of my dick oozing pus. I shuddered and took a half step back. "Er, but I don't want to take any chances. I don't want any permanent damage."

She looked horrified and reached out to grasp my hips. "Oh my god, no. I don't want that either. She leaned in and pressed her soft cheek to my dick, her hair tickling the head. Her cheek was cold against my overly sensitive skin. I thought I might come right then and there, especially when she slid her face up to stare at me. She looked glorious on her knees with her lips a few inches from my cock.

Isabella rose, climbing to her feet and pressing a chaste, dry kiss just to the left of the tip before pulling away. I gasped but not from her lips on my dick; her hair was tangled in my piercing, and my dick was following every jerky movement of her head.

"Ow," I whined. "Please stop moving."

She froze, the top of her head hovering somewhere around my belly button, and I could feel my piercing grazing against something. "I think my hair is caught in your zipper."

"No!" I yelped. "It's stuck to my dick! I think your hair is wound around my piercing."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I could hear the panic in her voice. "I can't see it. I can't... holy shit! How will I get us untangled?"

I looked around the kitchen frantically, spying a pair of kitchen shears near the sink across the room.

"Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could cut your hair if you had a pair of scissors?"

"Er, yeah, I guess so... maybe." Her fingers touched me again, and I groaned, hoping we'd be freed before I came. I had a feeling her face was just an inch away from my dick, and the last thing I wanted to do was come on her chin. Well, right now anyway. I'd seen a pretty sexy pictorial spread in the February 1972 issue of Hustler that made that act look pretty interesting. Maybe Isabella would let me recreate it on her... with semen or buttercream; I didn't care. "I can feel where the hair is snarled. Am I hurting you a lot?"

"You have no idea how your hands on me feel, but you have to stop. I'm too... ugh... excited."

The feel of her fingers disappeared. "Oh, okay."

"Uh... so... if we can move about twenty feet to your rear, I can get my hands on a pair of scissors. Do you think we can do it without, uh, jostling my dick?"

"Yeah, but... well, I think maybe I should hold onto you peen while we move so I can make sure I don't rip at your piercing too much."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Isabella," I explained kindly, patting her back. "I find you incredibly sexy and gorgeous. I want your mouth on my cock so bad it's making me dizzy. I'm already so worked up, the slightest movement might make me, uh, well... "

"I don't mind."

Every fantasy I'd ever had... every magazine in my collection... nothing compared to the reality of this golden moment. My big-tittied angel was basically staring into my dick, telling me she wanted me to come all over her face.

"Really?"

"All right, Edward!" Carlisle's voice boomed from behind me.

Esme's voice came next as I clenched my eyes shut. "I didn't know you had it in you, perv."

In all the commotion I hadn't heard the front door unlock.

"Who is that, Edward?"

"Holy fuck! See, Edward, I told you you'd get a blow job for taking that girl bowling. Can we stay and watch?"

"Shut the fuck up," I howled, glaring at them both as they sidled into my peripheral vision.

"I really like your costumes," Isabella added softly.

* * *

**A/N: **Big inappropriate love and buttercream balls to askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and JewelzP, our prereader.

Link to the picture of Carlisle and Esme in their freak-ass sex costumes:  
www . wtfcostumes . com/anime_character_costumes . php

Important Announcement: BellaFlan is hosting the Fandom People Awards along with her pimp sisters, the Twfic Pimps. The mission of the awards is to spread goodwill in our community and celebrate everyone in the fandom, including authors, readers, betas, artists, bloggers, etc. Please visit our website and spread the love by nominating the people who have made a difference to you in this fandom. Nominations are open until October 4th. www . twificpimps . com/fandompplawards/nominations/

Every time you review us, Bella's eyebrow twitches. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Mac and Flan are having a blast writing this fic and reading all of your amazing messages.


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, don't just stand there - get the fucking scissors!" I howled, sliding my fingers into Isabella's hair to keep her still. At the very least, Carlisle and Esme's appearance had grabbed my dick back from the edge of splooging all over my angel's face. Of course, staring at Esme's tits, covered only by hot pink, sequined nipple pasties, had certainly gotten my attention and gave me an idea for some new meringues for the shop.

Esme jiggled over to the counter and cracked her giant Hello Kitty head against the wall as she retrieved the shears while I tried not to stare at Carlisle's long, kinky chest hair. Even though he  
was blond... well, up top... the hair matting his pecs and stomach was nearly black and kind of looked like pubic hair. And speaking of pubic hair, the tiny shorts of his Pikachu ensemble were, uh, entirely too small.

"Wow, you're locked in there good and tight, aren't you, sweetie?" Esme, her stupid costume head left at the sink, asked Isabella as she bent over and inspected my dick. "Sweet Jesus, Edward! I thought you were exaggerating with the pierced dong cake - you could do porn with that thing. I know a guy, you know." She reached a hand out toward my cock, but Isabella slapped her hands away frantically, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

"Fine, do it yourself," Esme said with a snicker and handed Isabella the kitchen shears. "You know, Carlisle, this totally reminds me of that time we were in Montreal in that leather bar."

"Oh, yeah!" Carlisle chuckled and eyed Isabella's denim-clad ass until I glared at him. "You shoulda been there, dude. Esme got her nipple clamps caught on some guy's assless chaps and-"

"What the fuck are you guys doing here, anyway?" I interrupted. Isabella was far too innocent to listen to Carlisle's stories. "Black said he got a report you guys had been around but already left."

Esme cackled and ran over to Carlisle, practically mounting him against the ovens. "That's so hot. Let's almost get caught more often!"

"Look, can you guys just get the hell out of here? I'd like to continue this date with my girlfriend."

Isabella squeaked and pushed her fingers along the pale flesh of my thighs. Her fingers felt so good that my dick was starting to resume its former state of excitement.

"Oh my fuck, dude. Congratulations! Now maybe you'll get back to work and stop groping those marzipan replica tits all the time since you've got the real thing."

Esme dragged Carlisle toward the door of the kitchen. "Shut up. Has having a real dick made you stop jizzing all over Edward's peen cakes?"

As they left through the front door, I heard Carlisle say, "Now, honey, that was just supposed to be between me and you."

_Fuck_. I hope they locked the door. The last thing I needed was more visitors.

Fairy Butch flew around my head muttering things about pus and dick amputation as I took a deep breath, blatantly ignoring him. "Are you ready?"

Isabella's tinkling laugh blew warm air across the head of my dick, making me groan. "Yes, er... what... well, will you hold my hair up so I can see what I'm doing?"

Her hair was warm in my hand, seeming to wrap around my fingers on its own, like a living thing. She turned her face to the side, smiling up at me tenderly. Her eyebrow was still twitching, the ferocious movement almost bewitching - although less so when she was wielding the shears, poking me in the nut with the tip.

"Oh, I'm... uh, well... I'm sorry. I should... um... kiss it and make it better."

"Gawyeee?"

"Huh?" Isabella carefully snipped at the hair that had worked itself around my Albert. I should have had the good sense to shit myself with fear of my johnson being guillotined, but my balls were cooking over with lust. Seriously. If they were eggs, they'd be hard boiled.

"You want to kiss my balls?"

"Well... since I can't suck your cock...er, yes." She looked up at me from her spot near my dick and carefully shook out her hair. I wondered if this was all part of her dentophilia thing or if she was genuinely attracted to me. "I'm sorry... you know, I got my head stuck to you... that wasn't the head I had in mind to give you tonight." She cupped my balls in her hot hand and smiled, her eyebrow still jiggling spastically. "All free. For a second, I thought we'd... uh... have to stay that way forever."

"I'd die a happy man if I lived my life with you tethered to my cock, sweetness." She really was sugary sweet. I wondered what her rosy pussy would look and taste like. Would her labia be all plump and pouty like her lips? I wondered which pussy from my bouquet she'd resemble the most.

Fuck, thinking about her slit inflated me back to full mast. For a second, I was afraid seeing Carlisle's Sasquatch curlies would result in a permanent hang-down situation... although that would solve the issue of saliva, since I was sure Isabella wouldn't want any part of my flaccid dick.

"Buying pants would, er, be difficult," she giggled, her warm breath tickling my balls. They were starting to become excruciatingly tingly, and everything ached. Her fingers pressed into the backs of my thighs while I gathered her long hair into my hands again and made a make-shift pony tail with my fingers. It took every ounce of will I could muster not to just push her face forward into my sac - Carlisle would have told me to quit being such a wuss, but my mother raised me to be a gentleman.

"Pants are for suckers. I'd just wear a kilt."

"That's hot," she squeaked and pressed her nose into my chode.

"Isabella, I... I want you. I want you so badly I can't stand it, but maybe we should wait until I'm able to make love to you properly." I pulled her head back gently.

"Edward, do you have fudge?"

_Uh, what?_ Fortunately, working with Carlisle made me an expert on anticipating and responding to non sequiturs. I hesitated for a second, though, hoping this wasn't a segue into anal sex. If saliva wasn't okay, I was fairly certain... er, well. "I'm making a batch in the morning for the fudge-packing eclairs. Would you like me to make you a pan?"

"Uh... yeah, I would... do you know what the best part of fudge is?"

"Tell me?" I held my breath.

"The nuts," she explained, and before I processed her meaning, she descended on mine.

"Fuck," I groaned and bucked as her full lips sucked hungrily on my balls with even more enthusiasm than she had used on the buttercream bowl. Her mouth was the approximate temperature of the oven when I baked madelaines for fellatio parfaits. "Christ... oh, holy fuck."

"Mmm, you taste good," she moaned and sucked my left nut hard over her tongue, creating a vacuum. I looked down in shock as my right nut got sucked into the vortex of her mouth. When her tongue started rolling wetly over my skin, my eyes rolled back in my head, and I braced myself against my work station. I could no longer rely on my basic motor reflexes.

"Wait, I don't want to come yet," I gasped, trying to pull her face away from my crotch. She swatted my hand away and sucked impossibly harder.

"I'm going to come!" I yelled.

Pins and needles prickled my toes, the feeling spreading up my legs. I wondered vaguely if all the blood had been sucked out of my extremities... well, my arms and legs, maybe. It was definitely all pooling in my dick, which was now kind of turning purple. I looked down quizzically the second before Isabella gave one last circle around my balls, and I erupted, spewing ropes of jizz into my ready hand as I grunted while my hips pumped erratically.

Isabella kissed my balls after releasing them and pulled back, picking an errant pubic hair out of her mouth. I had just enough sense to shrug apologetically, inwardly pledging to start shaving my dick if she would suck on my balls every day until I was healed. She looked up with a playful grin and climbed to her feet. I smiled back helplessly, my pants tangled around my knees and my hand full of hot come.

I looked around for something to wipe my hand on, but there was nothing within reach. My heart was pounding my chest, not just from my orgasm but from the way I was feeling about the woman who now had her head buried in the bowl of buttercream again. I shuffled toward the sink and turned the water on with my free hand, rinsing my jizz down the drain and drying my hands before swiftly pulling up my pants.

My now sated dick was soft and happy, but the head still rubbed uncomfortably against the fabric. I had secretly hoped the magic of Isabella's mouth would cure me of the pain, but it looked like I'd just have to wait it out. Fairy Butch smirked from the top of the refrigerator.

I sidled up behind Isabella, sliding my hands around her waist. Hums of delight came from her while she devoured more buttercream as I pushed my nose into the crook of her neck. She set the bowl down and twisted around toward me, her hip brushing against my cock. I held my breath and counted to ten, waiting for the stinging sensation to subside. She had smears of cream on her nose and chin, and for a second I worried I'd come all over her face until I remembered she'd been eating my cream.

"I really like pussy," I blurted. That had gone much smoother in my mind.

Isabella smiled up at me. "I know. I really... like... that about you - and yours are so perfectly formed."

"Oh, uh, no. I mean, well, yeah. Thank you. But that's not what I mean."

"No?"

I was clearly fucking this up, and I was starting to panic. "Can I... Isabella, can I kiss you?"

Her smile widened, her eyebrow still jumping, although less so now. She nodded, closing her eyes and pursing her lips.

I lowered my lips to her nose, licking the buttercream off with the tip of my tongue. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, and I followed them with my mouth, kissing the apple of her cheek and the corner of her lip. A tremulous sigh hissed out.

"You're so perfect," I murmured against the skin of her jaw as I swiped my thumb across her chin, taking a dollop of cream with me.

"Oh!" she yelled in my ear.

I jolted back, tripping over my own feet and falling on my ass on the floor. My tailbone felt like someone had poked a flaming fork up my spine. The room spun as I held on to consciousness by focusing on the face of my big-tittied goddess.

"Oh shit! Are you okay?" Isabella stepped over me, nearly kicking me in the balls she'd just sucked. I cowered and cupped them to protect my junk from the dangers of her feet. Every time I moved, something hurt - either my back or my ass or my dick. She held out her hand to me, and I took it, pulling her to the floor with me.

"Why don't you come down here? Why did you yell?"

"Uh... oh, because I, uh, figured out what you meant about the... pussies." Her lower lip fell open, and she dragged her tongue across it.

"You did?" I smiled. I was feeling bold and relaxed from my orgasm, despite the ceaseless ache in my lower regions.

"You didn't mean the pussy cake?"

"I like pussy cake very much... but no."

"You meant, like, real pussy?" Curiously, her eyebrow stopped its hypnotic dancing, but her nose started twitching rhythmically. Her hair was drawn away from her face and over her shoulders in two rabbit ear-like sections and her beautiful, enormous titties heaved as she took in fast, nervous gusts of air, panting upon exhaling. She looked like a pornographic bunny, and I desperately wanted us to fuck like rabbits.

"I mean _your _pussy."

"And when you say you want to kiss me?"

"I mean your _pussy._"

"So you want to..."

I didn't move because I was suddenly ass-raped by a terrible hallucination: Carlisle, wearing Butch's fairy wings and buzzing around my face while knitting a sweater out of his own body hair.

"_You're_ a pussy," he said with disdain. "What are you waiting for? Take a lick of her tuna sashimi!" I plucked him out of the air and squished his head between my thumb and forefinger.

"Edward?" Isabella pleaded, covering her face with her hands for reasons I didn't understand.

"I want to eat your sashimi, er, I mean, pussy!"

"Oh... I don't know, Edward. Don't you think that's going a little far for a first date?" Behind her hands, I could see her face was bright red - not the delicate nipple blush that usually flushed her skin, but a near-scarlet.

"Uh, well... I don't want to do anything you're not ready for, Isabella. I just want to make you feel good." _And also, didn't you just give me a nut job?_

"Yeah? Like how?" she trembled, pulling a rabbit ear of hair over her face. I couldn't understand why she would want to hide from me. Certainly she knew she was my goddess, and I only wanted to pray at her alter for several hours. I was very thorough and meticulous about many things, and pussy-eating topped my list of things worth being consummate about.

"Isabella," I breathed into her ear. "I want to suck on your juicy clit and not come up for air for hours." I licked a line starting from below her earlobe down to her collar bone, all the while trying to steal a glance down her blouse. Daringly, I darted my nose down below the collar and got an eye full of the tops of her pale, lightly freckled tits - the same tits that launched one thousand cake erections in their likeness. "I want to suck on your sweet titties."

"Pleash, Etwart, pleash." Her voice sounded off.

"Isabella?" I looked up at her red face and puffy mouth quizzically. "What's the matter, dumpling?"

"Lishp," she said quickly.

"You have a lisp?" I'd never noticed one before. And why did her mouth suddenly double in size? Was I hallucinating again?

"Isabella!" I was starting to panic. "What's the matter, my sweet?"

"Noffink." She tried to hide her face completely behind her hands, which I noticed, also looked kind of swollen. "You shed you wanna kish my pushy." Her heavy breathing turned into the wheeze of a boiling teapot. I sat up quickly and pried her hands away from her face.

"Holy fuck!"

"Showwy," she sobbed.

"What going on with your face?" She looked like a blowfish.

Miniature-squished-Sasquatch-pube-knitting Carlisle desperately tried to re-inflate, I imagined, to retort with a blowjob euphemism. Fortunately, Esme had left the Hello Kitty sex costume head at the sink. It gained sentience just in time to chase his specter under one of the ovens.

"Allergic reaction," she managed to say.

"What are you allergic to, buttercup?"

"Shhtrawbewies."

"But... but you knew the buttercream was strawberry! Why did you eat it?"

She sobbed while I carefully felt around in my front pocket, mindful not to jostle my dick, and grabbed my car keys.

"I didn't know you ushed real onesh."

"Yeah," I sighed and wrapped my arms around her. "I like realism. C'mon."

"Are you taking me to the hoshpital?" She sounded so ashamed.

"Nah, I'm taking you to see Carlisle."

"Why?"

"Because that sexual deviant also happens to be a licensed doctor."

* * *

**A/N:** BellaFlan and Mac take great pride in just how screwed up this whole thing really is. There's something comforting knowing the two of us aren't the only freaks to find this sideshow funny. Thank you for reading, reviewing, rec'ing, tweeting, etc. Oh, and thanks to Altered Lions and Sacrificial Lambs for the Sweet Tooth rec - http:/bit(DOT)ly/bkcwU7

By the way, did you know BellaFlan has massive boobs? Every review gets a boobie smoosh.


	8. Chapter 8

"Quick! Take all of her clothes off!" Carlisle screeched, pawing lewdly at Isabella's shirt. Both Bella and I smacked at his hands, and he pulled back, immediately shoving a finger in his mouth. "Damn. Why'd ya have to go and do that? I just want to examine her. Esme, fetch my douche bag."

I stared at him quizzically. I wasn't quite sure what douching had to do with her tightly stretched face, and I sure as shit wasn't going to let Carlisle anywhere near Isabella's glorious body when it was unclothed. "Uh, yeah. I don't think she needs to be naked."

Esme rushed up behind him carrying his very conservative black doctor bag with the word 'DOUCHE' emblazoned across it with neon yellow block letters. She hovered over Isabella, trying to cop a feel of her heaving titties.

"Jufbt... giff... me... epppinefphreen," Isabella huffed, her lips slightly blue. Her tongue was now so swollen it stuck out of her mouth, like she was trying to be sassy... except she was wheezing and clawing at her arms.

"What's that, spastic?" Carlisle grinned down at Isabella, standing with his arms crossed over his still-nude chest. I wished he'd put on some pants.

"She has a strawberry allergy," I explained impatiently. "She needs epinephrine before her throat totally closes up."

Esme stopped her groping and eyeballed me. "You got all of that from that fucked up sentence?"

"No, she told me before her lisp got so bad."

Carlisle nodded and squinted, peering at Isabella's now-grotesquely swollen mouth and tongue. "All right, sweetheart, just let me get my EpiPen." He dug around in his bag, and Isabella started scrabbling at my pants. I thought for a second she was trying to touch my dick, and I immediately stuck my hand out in front of my Albert for protection purposes. Then I noticed her lips had turned bluer, her eyes bulging. _Oh shit! _She couldn't breathe!

"Hurry it up - she's going to die!" I fell at her feet, wrapping my arms around her calves. "Oh, Isabella, don't go, sugar booger! Stay! Don't go into the light!" Esme snickered, but I felt Isabella's hands clutching at my hair, nearly tearing it out by the roots, so I felt confident she was fighting to stay alive simply at my urging. "I'll never give you strawberries again; just don't die!" I sobbed into her kneecaps, patting her juicy thighs.

Isabella's grip on my hair loosened, and I slowly became aware that the room was silent other than my jagged crying and whining. I lifted my head to see three faces staring down at me. Carlisle's eyebrows were raised incredulously, Esme just looked amused, but Isabella smiled wanly at me, swaying precariously.

"Your tits look so hot from this angle," I blurted, hugging Isabella's leg.

"Ohb." Her tongue still fell over her giant lips, but she seemed to be breathing just fine... even though her perfect tits still rose and fell heavily as she sucked in breaths of air. "Noo, I'mb pfwine naow. Cawliwle gath me a thot."

Carlisle held up a thin purple dildo. "See?"

I punched him in the dick. "You shot her with your sex toys?" I yelled over his tormented howling. "What kind of fucked up doctor are you?"

Esme rolled her eyes and patted Carlisle's back as he hunched, clutching his junk. "No, you ass. That's an EpiPen. I had a special one made for him so we could carry it to our swinger parties. I have an allergy to whipped cream."

Carlisle hissed in a deep breath and blew it out again, his eyes clenched tightly shut. "You're... so... fired, dude."

"Now, now," Esme said, rolling her eyes and tousling his hair as he took turns glaring at the two of us. Isabella propped herself up against a wall and watched with wide eyes. "That's just the trauma to your man meat talking. Let's get some ice on that."

"Ice?" Carlisle propped one eye open, a hopeful look on his face. "Will you do that thing with my ass?"

"Whoa! Will you look at the time?" I shot to my feet and turned to Isabella. She looked absolutely panicked, and I worried her attack was worsening. "Are you okay?"

"Wyaw. Lwetsh jusht get out awf herrrr. Thew'rw thucked upp."

I had no idea what she said, but it was definitely time to go. When I turned around to thank Carlisle for his quick treatment of my beloved Isabella, Esme had her hand on his dick, rubbing it furiously. I averted my eyes since his hard-on exposed more of his strangely dark pubic hair. I'd seen more of him than I wanted to already, and I was afraid of seeing anything else that would jeopardize our professional relationship.

"Uh, we're going to go. Um, thanks, Carlisle. Sorry about the dick."

"No harm, no foul, dude," he rasped out, waving me off. "See you at work tomorrow."

-({})-

Despite everything we'd gone through together tonight, I awkwardly dug my hands into my pockets on the doorstep of Isabella's brownstone, fumbling in vain for something eloquent to say. I didn't want our date to end, but seeing as we were at her door and she hadn't yet invited me in, the night had pretty clearly reached its logical conclusion.

"Can I kiss you goodnight?" I asked, not even bothering to disguise the naked hope in my voice.

Her lips were still puffy but no longer in a way that resembled a flotation device. They were swollen like engorged pussy lips, which reminded me that before the great strawberry fubar, I was trying to try to nose my way into her panties.

"My mouth hurts a little," she said woefully. "I love kissing you so much."

"Hold still," I whispered and cupped her jaw in my hand. I drew my mouth to the corner of hers and kissed her very softly, just the tiniest bit of pressure to her drool-dampened skin. A tiny whine expelled from her lips.

"How long until you're able to make love?" Her voice was frantic, and it didn't escape my notice that her hips were bucking. I lowered one of my hands to her thigh and squeezed.

"A few more days, my gumdrop." I french-kissed her nose, licking furiously at her nostril.

"Ohhh." She panted and squeaked in response. I tried to fuck her nose with my tongue to give her a taste of what was to come, but things got a little slippery, and I accidentally licked the corner of her eye, sending her brow into a palsy-like frenzy.

"That's a naughty little eyebrow you have," I chastised teasingly and bit it gently.

"It twitches when I'm excited." She wiped away my saliva from her forehead and fingered the corner of her brow.

"I noticed."

"I'm excited." She was bucking like a bronco now, so I pushed my knee discreetly between her thighs to give her something to hump since I couldn't give her my cock and she seemed reluctant to let me eat her. She grunted and rutted, and her eyebrow bounced in rhythm with each hump, redefining the term 'eye-fucking'.

"Can I come inside?" I pleaded, pressing my forehead against hers.

"Your eyebrows twitch, too," she whispered against my nose, ignoring my request.

Suddenly, I noticed my eyebrows were indeed dancing against hers, like sympathy spasticness. I could feel my hairy Tribbles nuzzling and caressing her dainty silk worms, gently at first in a languid stroking motion, but as the friction increased, the dance transformed into a skirmish. I gasped as our brows became frenzied, as if they couldn't quite get enough, rising and falling and battling for dominance like duelling tongues in cheesy romance novels. Not that I knew anything about those.

"Edward," Isabella cried, standing up on her toes and arching against my face. I hunched over to offer her a better angle on my head. "Faster... harder..." she moaned, rubbing my forehead raw with her ministrations. Tiny hairs flew around us like feathers as she gasped and panted.

"Oh, god..." I groaned.

"Your eyebrows are so big, Edward... so hairy."

My body erupted into goose bumps, standing each hair of my brow erectly on end.

"Please let me come inside, Isabella? I have so much more than just my eyebrows to give you."

The front door of her house flew open, revealing a wizened older man, his dark hair swirling thinly around the top of his head in a single strand. Isabella jumped back, her face turning redder than the strawberries I'd used to make the killer buttercream.

"Isabella Marie Swan! What did you do to your face? Did this ass clown do that to you?" The man pulled a massive gun from the waistband of his pants and waved it in my direction. I hopped off the stoop, panicked and trying to ignore the sudden, shooting pain in my dick from all the movement.

"Daddy, no!"

_Daddy?_ My dreams of pleasuring my sweet cherry parfait evaporated as Isabella wrestled the gun away from her alleged father, and I ducked behind the car parked in front of her house.

"Don't think I can't kill you with my bare hands, boy!" the old man yelled. "You hurt my daughter, and you're worm meat, you hear me?"

I peeked over the hood. Isabella tugged him back inside the house and yelled over her shoulder, "Stay there, Edward!" as she closed the door behind them both with a firm click.

My breath was hissing out of me as I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees. Oh god, Isabella's father thought I'd hurt her. With a sudden gasp, I realized he was right. I _had _hurt her. It was all my fault - _I_ was the one who gave her the buttercream that nearly killed her. If it hadn't been for me, Isabella never would have eaten strawberries. I was dangerous... a monster. I was a horrible human being, and all the pussy bouquets in the world couldn't make up for it.

Her father was probably in there explaining that to her right now. She would never forgive me. Never! As I sagged down, sliding my back against the car until I was curled up into a tortured ball by the tire, the air around me sparkled and the opening strains of "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" sounded. The lead singer, the bald one who wore the bandanna, appeared, shimmering like a ghost as he pointed at me and sang the first verse. A single tear tracked down the side of my face, pooling in my ear.

My angel had to hate me, and even if she didn't, I could so easily have killed her tonight that I had to let her go for her own good.

_Though I tried not to hurt you, thought I tried, I guess that's why they say -_

The door slammed shut behind me, and I could only imagine it was either Isabella's father coming out to finish the job or Isabella herself coming to tell me to leave her alone. The singer guy spun around, joined now by a battalion of scantily clad women and a guy who looked suspiciously like a pimp, all of them now singing the chorus of "Love is a Battlefield."

"What are you doing?" Isabella's sweet voice floated above the musical break up scene playing out in front of me and pulled me from my hallucination. I waved sadly at the dancers as they faded into the night. It was probably the closest I'd get to tits for a decade after Isabella dumped me... or I had to break up with her.

"Are you alright, my honey biscotti darling?" I asked tremulously, wiping my face as I sat up.

She quickly sat beside me, folding her legs beneath her. "Er, I'm fine. But... you know... I'm sorry about my dad. He's a little crazy."

I couldn't even look at her. "He should be crazy about protecting you, Isabella. You are more precious than all the bung hole bundt cakes in the world. If someone else had maimed you, I would have tried to kill them, too. I deserve to die."

"What are you talking about?" Her fingers on my leg were warm. I ached for her, knowing I'd never kiss her again.

"I nearly killed you tonight! The strawberries. I should have known!"

"Oh, good gravy," Isabella muttered while climbing to her feet. "Get up, Edward."

"Are you going to punch me? Aim for my cock - it'll hurt more." I pushed myself up, using the car for support. I'd probably lose my dick permanently when she hit me... but I didn't mind; I needed to be punished for what I'd done to her.

I finally raised my eyes to her face, determined to watch as she destroyed me. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Do you have pussies at your house?"

"What?" I didn't understand what that had to do with anything, but I answered her honestly. "Oh, uh, well... I do have quite a porn collection."

"Well... uh, yeah. Do you have pussy cupcakes? Or those cannoli from earlier? Maybe more buttercream?" Isabella's eyebrow was starting to twitch again, her eyelids still puffy from her earlier near death experience.

"At the apartment?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, but why? I'm not allergic to anything," I informed her dejectedly. "You could probably choke me with an ejaculating eclair, though."

"Er, I don't... want to hurt you. I'm just checking to see if you have anything to eat. I'm staying overnight."

My forehead wrinkled in confusion. "But Isabella... your father, and I, well, I nearly killed you!"

"Dad's a little crazy. My mom can take care of him for the night - she was, uh, indisposed when he came out."

"But... but... he had a gun!" I stammered.

"A water pistol," she explained. "He's a retired school teacher - he went a little nuts after he was forced to resign from the school. Apparently he was running around telling people he was a police officer."

"Oh. But, Isabella, I'm a danger to you! How - "

She interrupted me by pressing her puffy lips very gently to mine. "Edward, you're being... er, silly," she said when she broke away. "I never told you I was allergic to strawberries."

"But..."

"But, nothing." She picked up a duffel bag I hadn't noticed before and squared her shoulders. "I think you have to take me home with you now."

"Why, my beloved biscotti?"

"Well, for starters, I think my neighbor might call the police if we don't leave soon. He probably thinks you've been fiddling with his car."

I looked around, and there was a large man peering out her front window with a phone in his hand. I waved hello, hoping I could apologize with a plate of dirty whoopie pies. I could deliver them tomorrow night. And perhaps Mrs. Swan would enjoyed some pressed cookies - I had a new plate for my press gun that would carve dick shapes into the top of the dough.

Isabella picked up my hand, curving her fingers around my palm. "And secondly, I'd like to talk to you about cocks and pussies."

"You're not afraid to be around me?" I asked, my resolve to protect her from me crumbling.

"No." I glanced up; her eyebrow was undulating again.

"Well... yeah, we can go to my apartment. I do have some of the less perfect pussy cupcakes there, and I'll let you beat some dough for the cock cakes if you like."

"I wasn't talking about cake."

* * *

**A/N:** We've been alluding to the general insanity of this chapter for days on Twitter (what, you don't follow us? Come find us at BellaFlan and mac_214), so we hope this lived up to the sweet, sweet hype.

The idea for the bung hole bundt cake is not ours – thanks to Profitina for that one. Have more ideas for insanely bizarre erotic desserts? Send them our way or post totally inappropriate photos over the the Twi'd thread for Sweet Tooth.

Many thanks to askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and JewelzP, our prereader, who go above and beyond in dealing with the cracktasticness of all this. If we could, we'd deliver bung hole bundt cakes and ejaculating éclairs to you every damn day.


	9. Chapter 9

"It's not very big," I apologized.

"I'm sure it's plenty big enough for me, Edward. I'm the one intruding, so the size really doesn't matter."

"Well, that's very kind of you... it might be a tight fit tonight."

"That's good." Isabella offered me that sweet smile of hers that reduced me to a pile of jizz-cream jelly while she patiently waited for me to stop fidgeting and unlock the door. "I like the idea of it being tight."

"Me too," I said lamely. "You're so sweet, my dumpling." _Please let me eat you?_

"Not as sweet as you! I swear, Edward, it's like you're slathered in icing sugar and butter, you smell so good."

"No, not butter," I clarified and opened the door, suddenly grateful I'd asked my dog walker to keep Embry for the night. She'd receive a nice basket of silver-dusted cock ring cookies tomorrow... I routinely plied her with goods from the Cookie, but she deserved something extra special.

"This is, uh, nice," Isabella said, looking around my apartment with a shy smile on her full, pouty mouth. _Oh, fuck_... having her here in my apartment was a fantasy come true. I'd imagined her a million times, spread out over my cupcake sheets or rubbing her bare ass against my countertops. Sure, it wouldn't have been particularly hygienic, but Jacob Black didn't know where I lived, and it wasn't as if I was baking commercially in my kitchen.

Well, except for that time I made nipple pasty gumdrops for the elementary school bake sale across the street. The president of the parents' association seemed to be really impressed with the quality of my work - she spent quite a bit of time inspecting my wares, and her eyes lit up as she dragged her tongue around the tiny licorice tassels. When I saluted her with the schlong rolling pin Carlisle had given me for Christmas, well... she went a little crazy. I still wasn't sure why, but I suspected a sugar sensitivity. Not everyone could handle the sugar levels in my pasties. The next day I delivered Boston cream doughnuts (the hanging variety) to her house as an apology. She still glared at me, but I'd seen her in the Cookie a few times, so I was sure everything was mostly forgiven.

"Let me show you around." I hastily straightened the cushions on my couch and hoped I'd cleaned up my dirty underwear from the floor of my bedroom... unless maybe Isabella would feel more comfortable sleeping in the living room. True, she'd given my balls the licking of a lifetime, but she seemed so shy about letting me taste her pie. "Can I offer you some pie?"

I cringed at my Freudian slip. At the very least, there was a cherry pie in my refrigerator - I'd made it yesterday while dreaming Isabella had undulated around my kitchen in nothing more than a pair of incredibly sexy, green wool socks. Her amazing titties had swayed as she moved, and I hoped I could convince the real Isabella to recreate that particular scene, especially the part where she let me lick buttercream off her soft skin.

Fairy Butch flew around my head, laughing maniacally. "Keep that dick put away, Edward!" he chanted over and over.

"Er... okay. Where can I put my bag?"

"Oh, yeah. Why don't we put in my bedroom?" I asked, the hope clear in my voice.

"That sounds... good. I should... um, well, I should warn you - my mom says I do weird things in my sleep."

I hoped it would involve getting naked, but then I considered the weirdness of that, considering it was her mother who told her. "Is that right? What do you do?"

Isabella walked along with me to my bedroom, passing by my framed posters of Jacques Torres and Jenna Jameson. "Well, I have... uh... vivid dreams."

"Um, that doesn't seem so odd."

"They're loud... and... well, lately I've been yelling out about buttercream a lot... and screaming your name."

My poor dick. Her words had it inching up the inside of my pants like an excited cobra about to strike. As she set her bag down by my bureau, I adjusted myself to a position that didn't make me want to cry.

"I'll try not to let it bother me. So, uh, what do you want to do?"

She turned to face me, scuffing the carpet with the toe of her shoe. "Can you show me your cock?"

That certainly got things rolling in the right direction. I smiled widely. "You mean right this instant? You wouldn't rather watch a movie first?"

"Well, I really can't wait to get my hands on it." Her fingers twisted together as she stared at me, her lips turning up slightly. "And you did say you worked the dough a lot."

The bubble of joy in my stomach collapsed on itself. "Oh, the dough. Yeah, that's fine. Good, I mean. Good. I'll let you, uh, touch my cock dough."

Isabella abruptly ran at me and threw her arms around my neck. "This is going to be such a fun night, Edward! Thank you so much!" She kissed the corner of my cheek, barely grazing my earlobe, and I might have whimpered a little like an over-excited puppy. In fact, my leg even started thumping as she caressed the nape of my neck with her tiny fingers. "I'm totally kidding, by the way."

"Hm?" I laced my fingers through hers and guided her toward my modest kitchen. My apartment certainly wasn't very big, but what it lacked in substance it made up for in style. My appliances were state of the art and and highly specialized for the mastery of erotic pastry creation. Even my KitchenAid mixer was fashioned with special attachments, including a buttplug beater and dildo auger.

"I don't want to beat the dough, Edward." She took a couple of clumsy steps forward and kissed the side of my mouth. "I want you..."

_Oh, god_. I squeezed my eyes shut before Fairy Butch, or god forbid, some over-sexed Hello Kitty anime beast could tea bag me with another horrible hallucination.

"Isabella... I want you." _What's this? _My cock wiggled, desperately trying to free himself from the cotton prison of my pants. It panted and whined like a puppy, paying no heed whatsoever to its own aching, Albert-ringed cockhead. _Down boy! _I swear, he was pulling me just like Embry did when he tried to get off his leash. I really, really didn't want to pull on the choke chain in this instance. _Soon, my pet_, I tried to reason with him.

"I just can't get enough of your massive beast," Isabella said boldly, biting her lip like it was made of sugary fondant. Shit, was I speaking aloud? Did she hear me giving canine commands to my schlong? "Couldn't I just touch him a little more? I'll be really careful. I'll tie my hair back to avoid another mishap."

"Just a few more days and he'll be yours, my sweet." I cupped her shoulder in my hand and lowered my nose to her hair, inhaling.

"Did you just sniff my hair?"

I frowned. "Um, yeah. Is that weird?"

"No... it's very sweet. I think you're the nicest, sweetest man I've ever met, Edward. You're always a gentleman, always saying just the perfect things."

"I really want to see your pussy-"

"I mean, most guys would have been really weirded out by me by now... but not you... you're just so... I don't know... old fashioned?"

"I think I'll go crazy if you don't let me worship your cunt, Isabella... please?"

"I could just cuddle and kiss you all- wait, what?"

"Please," I grovelled like the spastic idiot I was. "Please let me eat you?" I lowered to my knees and nuzzled my nose against the seam in her pants at the apex of her thighs. "I need to feel you come on my face."

"Oh!"

Yes! Shit, she was finally going to grant me access to nirvana: the pink, creamy petals of her pussy lips.

"Well... you don't think... I mean... well." Isabella was slowly turning a shade I associated with my menstrual taffy chews.

I clutched at the back of her calves, smoothing my cheek against her leg as I looked up at her. "What's wrong, my sweet cannoli? I know you said it might be too soon for us, but you also said you thought we were meant for each other."

"Uh... yeah. I mean, I do... we are. Look, maybe we can get you naked, I'll... uh... well, I can just lick your cock. I'll stay away from the piercing. I'm sure you'll like it." Isabella reached down and tangled her hands in my hair.

My dick was now absolutely strangling in my pants because that sounded wonderful to him. Isabella's tongue, snaking around my cock with her hands caressing my balls... oh, yeah. And yet, it felt wrong somehow. I hadn't... well, I hadn't seen her beautiful titties yet, and I'd had dreams about it. I really wanted my lips memorizing the shape of her nipples. I'd pay homage to them by making an exact replica out of white chocolate.

She just seemed so reticent to let me see her unclothed. Was there something wrong? Did she have a third boob? I smiled up at her, excited to have an extra titty to play with.

"I'll adore you no matter what, you know? There's nothing that could make me want to worship at the alter of your glorious sugar nub any less."

"Yeah, right," Isabella muttered.

I tried to ignore the sharp pain in the head of my dick as it poked against my pants while I climbed to my feet. "Honey buns, what is it?" I smoothed her dark hair away from her face. "Would it make you more comfortable if we made a fresh batch of buttercream? I'll do anything to please you." Her juicy earlobe nearly waved to me, so I descended, kissing just below it on her neck before nibbling on the skin of her ear. "Anything," I whispered softly.

She moaned and gripped at my shirt. "It's just, well... I had an unfortunate waxing accident."

Huh. "Um, what?" I pulled away to look at her embarrassed face, my eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"My, uh, glory... has been defaced."

I had no idea what she was talking about. Her glory? I shook my head. "I, uh - "

"I got my cooter waxed," Isabella blurted, "and something went wrong!"

Oh. _Oh!_ "Er, is everything alright, sugar britches? I mean, are you... injured? I can, well, I can massage you if that'll help," I offered. I ran through all the injury possibilities in my head. Had her pussy gotten waxed shut? Had the wax been so hot she'd incurred third degree burns? Maybe the waxer had yanked too hard and one of her pussy lips had to be amputated. Probably not since we'd still had our date.

"Maybe I should just... show you." Isabella chewed on the edge of her upper lip, her complexion now purple.

I nodded emphatically, excited to finally see the promised land. "Yes, it's the only way for me to understand what I can do to help you."

She smiled up at me shyly, even though it was evident she was still mortified by whatever injury she'd sustained. Just as my fantasies always began, her fingers fumbled with the button on her pants, sliding it through the opening with exaggerated slowness. Next came her zipper, the sound of it echoing in the kitchen.

"Can I help you?" I murmured, stroking the soft skin of her belly visible in the opening of her pants above sexy pink underwear.

"Uh, okay, but be careful. I'm not sure how easily they come off..."

Um, huh? What, her underwear?

Isabella seemed to hold her breath as I gently slid her pants down her hips, past her fleshy, gorgeous thighs. She sighed when I sucked on the skin of her kneecap and touched the skin of her knee pit, and she blew out a forceful breath as I lifted first one foot and then the other to pull the pants off entirely.

I tossed the pants into the living room and turned back to Isabella to see her legs twisted around each other and her hands clasped in front of her.

"You look beautiful," I told her, lifting the hem of her shirt. My Albert was aching, and Fairy Butch was screeching things about infection from the top of my refrigerator, his wings battered. I ignored him as the strains of "Lovin' You" filtered through my head.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"I need to see your skin, my sweet bonbon. Let me." She stayed silent as I pulled her shirt over her head. Her titties were more magnificent than I'd ever imagined. Large and round, her peachy skin plumped over the cups of her pink cotton bra. I could see the shadow of her darker nipples through the fabric.

_Lovin' you is easy cause you're beautiful._

Just below her bra line on the right, the dark lines of a tattoo contrasted against her smooth, pale skin. I leaned in.

"Is that... oh my god, you have a mixer paddle tattoo." I huffed a breath over it, gratified when goose flesh rose in tiny bumps. It gave me an idea for a new chocolate dessert.

As much as I wanted to peel off her bra and spend some quality time with her unbelievable titties, my curiosity about this waxing incident got the best of me. I kissed the beater and then dropped to one knee, pressing my lips to her sugary sweet belly button and hooking my fingers into the sides of her panties.

_Makin' love with you is all I wanna do._

"It's not what you think," she pleaded, suddenly squeezing her thighs together. "D-Don't."

"I won't hurt you, I swear." I kissed a tiny mole on her hip. "I just want to make you feel better. Does it hurt a lot?" So very gently, I rubbed the creamy skin just under her panties but didn't attempt to lower the small scrap of material until I was certain she was absolutely comfortable. "I'll kiss it better." I looked at her terrified eyes from my spot between her legs.

"It doesn't really hurt, Edward. No more than usual after a wax..."

"Please, Isabella? Please tell me what the problem is?"

She nodded so I took it as her permission to lower the offending underwear. Very slowly, I pulled the cotton panties down, exposing the hairless skin low on her navel. The light from the overhead fixture refracted off of something sparkly, blinding me momentarily.

"What the fuck?" Did her pussy... sparkle?

"Vagazzles," she gasped. "Don't pull on them. I'm supposed use baby oil to dissolve the adhesive. If you tug on them, it could hurt."

"I'll be careful," I promised, stunned by the tiny crystals that lay high on her pubic bone. "They're pretty," I offered, smiling adoringly. "I'm going to lower your panties a bit more now, okay?"

"Oh, god... yeah, okay. Just understand that, well... it's not like I asked specifically for this... design."

"Design?"

"My pubic hair stylist took certain creative liberties after I told her about you."

Unable to contain my curiosity, I hooked both hands below the elastic and tugged.

"Oh my god!"

"I'm so embarrassed!"

"Is that-"

"An 'E'," Isabella confirmed, while I gently stroked her shorn pubis.

"As in an 'E for Edward'?" I was stunned.

"Yeah... it's crazy, right? I mean, this is only our first date, and my curlies are fashioned into your initial."

"You did this for me?"

"You know I did, Edward. I'm crazy about you."

I lowered my head to kiss the fuzzy letter above her clit. The E started twitching like her eyebrows the instant my lips made contact with it.

I was in love.

* * *

**A/N:** Er, yeah, vagazzles really do exist. Or vajazzles. Whatever. For the love of Jennifer Love Hewitt, look it up. There's even a bizarre three minute documentary. Thanks for reading, reviewing, tweeting, etc. May the hanging doughnuts be with you.

Song referred to in this chapter is Lovin' You by Minnie Riperton. Fa la la la la. Fa la la la la. :ear shattering note:

Many thanks to askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and JewelzP, our prereader, who go above and beyond in dealing with the cracktasticness of all this.


	10. Chapter 10

Isabella's pussy was so pink and sweet, the texture of a rich, buttery dough. Pressing my nose against her pubic bone and the tantalizing, trembling 'E' that adorned it, I took a long lick of her from stem to stern. Groans tore through my throat without my consent and echoed throughout the kitchen. _Fuck_. It had been so long since I'd eaten pussy; I hadn't realized how desperate I was for a taste, and no goodie from the Cookie could compare to the heaven that was my Isabella.

"Does it taste okay?" she asked shyly. "I mean, I know it's not buttercream or anything, but, um, it's not bad, is it?"

_Not bad?_

"It's fucking ambrosia, my sweet sugar snatch," I answered honestly. It didn't have the slightly acrid note that most pussies possessed, not that I was a connoisseur or anything. I sucked gently on her clit, feeling it plump on my tongue. "Better than any gum paste labia I've ever created for a cake."

Spreading her moist lips with my fingers, I dipped my tongue deeply inside her, as far as I could press in. She arched her body off the ground, thrusting her hips into my forehead. The friction we created from my head against her pubic bone seemed to have dislodged some of her finery. Tiny, glittering crystals scattered onto the floor. I could feel a couple sticking to my face.

"I'm sorry, buttercup... I seem to have rubbed off some of your vajazzles."

"I don't give a fuck," she ground out and pushed my head back down. "Oh, speak pastry to me... please? It drives me crazy."

This created a cunnilingus conundrum, as my mother taught me not to speak with my mouth full.

"Please?" she squeak-moaned, tugging almost painfully on my ears. "It would make me so hot." Curiously, she started tweaking my earlobes between her fingers.

I couldn't deny her anything. I spoke huskily, alternating between licks and words. "I'm going to bake a cake in your likeness," I professed, and her juicy thighs responded, clutching my cheeks in a vice-grip. It made me wish I had a tiny pastry brush to apply a delicate layer of frosting to the clittie and labia. Would she be offended if I took a picture or, better yet, allow me to cover her womanhood in molding clay? I'd never seen such a beautiful mound in my life, and I was desperate to immortalize it.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, yeeessss. How would you make the cake?"

"Um..." My poor, poor cockhead screamed in protest while simultaneously throbbing expectantly. "I'd slowly cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy," I gasped, surreptitiously adjusting myself. "I'd beat in the egg yolks _hard_, one at a time, making sure the batter is thoroughly whipped."

"Oh, god."

"Just a second, my gumdrop." Regretfully, I tore my face from between her thighs and adjusted my rolling pin once more.

"Take it out," Isabella pleaded.

"I would, sugar lips, but in its current, er, state I think I'll just irritate the piercing even more."

"Put a sock on it?"

"Pardon me?"

She shrugged, her titties bouncing as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Uh, maybe if you put a really soft sock on it... Oh, wait, I have idea!"

Yeah, I had an idea, too, but I doubted we were talking the same thing. I wanted to introduce my Albert to her masterpiece of a pussy, Fairy Butch and the infection of my dick be damned. Isabella flipped over and crawled up on her knees, waggling her fleshy round ass in my face. I groaned, reached out a hand, and ran my palm down the back of her thigh as she grasped the towel hanging from the handle of my range.

The skin of her leg pebbled up under my touch, and she shivered, freezing as my hand retraced its route. With my fingers moving to tease the bare lips of her now half-vajazzled pussy, I crept along the linoleum to the refrigerator, opening it with my elbow. As much as I always wished I had a bigger kitchen, in this situation it was nice to have a compact space.

"Vanilla," I groaned, sliding a finger into her while grabbing a covered bowl out of the refrigerator and stretching up to set it on the counter.

"What... was... that?" She pushed her ass back, the towel clenched in her hand.

Her asshole appeared to be winking at me. The puckered hole cake I'd made before seemed crude and unappealing now that I'd seen Isabella's tender badonkadonk. After I sculpted her gorgeous labia out of white chocolate or marzipan, I'd take on the task of immortalizing her bountiful buns in pastry. Just as I'd named the bachelor party bust cake the Isabella Swan, I'd call the ass cake the Bountiful Bella, and the chocolate labia would bear the name of Isabelabia Perfectus.

"Vanilla," I enunciated, dragging my lips across the expanse of her back and nibbling at the skin along the crack of her ass. "It comes next. Just like you."

"Wait!" she cried. "I... we... I need to..." Without another word, she shifted my finger out of her and rolled onto her left side. Her fingers frantically clutched at the button of my pants, and my cock jumped excitedly like a dog doing tricks. I was tempted to yell, _Down, Albert! _but I didn't want to give Isabella any weird ideas. Then again, Carlisle had waxed poetic on more than one occasion about how he liked to let Esme collar his dick and lead him around by a leash.

I pulled the zipper down for her, and Isabella carefully lifted my dick - throbbing both in lust and a little pain - and then both of us pushed my pants over my hips and down my legs. We were still somewhat dressed from the waist up, a problem I was determined to remedy, even though I wanted nothing more than to burrow between the soft pillows of her thighs.

Isabella carefully encased my cock in the hand towel, wrapping it up like my favorite nut sac Nutella crepes, while I unhooked the back of her bra and whipped it over her head. I guess that was what she meant by having an idea. It wasn't a good substitute for housing it in her pussy, but at least it would keep it from getting, er, injured.

Her eyebrow was twitching again, faster than I'd ever seen it dance before, but I barely paid attention. Instead, my eyes were glued to the pale, abundant titties and their dark pink nipples, which were surprisingly darker in color than my imagination had estimated. Her nipples pointed at me accusingly at a jaunty angle. _Yes, ladies, guilty as charged. It's me that's made you excited._

I cupped each bountiful bosom into my hands and kneaded them like pastry dough, pulling them over me so they hung in my face. The insides of her amazing titties cradled my cheeks, the scorching temperature of her pussy searing my belly button where she straddled me. My fingers crept into the cleft of her ass as I rasped the slight stubble of my chin over the satin frosting softness of the skin on both sides of my face. Isabella whinnied above me, her hips gyrating at the same pace of her frenzied eyebrows.

My hand skimmed from her ass to the front of her thigh so I could press my thumb against her candied clit, and I captured one nipple in my teeth. I would create a new line of lollipops in the likeness of her magnificent, saccharine peaks. Admittedly, I got lost licking and sucking on her unbelievable titties, but as I had promised her, I made her come with my fingers caressing her sugary nubbin.

"Flour," I mumbled against her breastbone as she panted and whined her way through her orgasm. As she calmed, I rolled us both, carefully keeping my mummified cock out of the way. I pushed her legs open with one hand and grabbed the bowl from the counter with my other, prying the lid off with my teeth. The tart smell of lemon buttercream assaulted my nostrils. "And then I spread the cake batter into the pan."

"Oh... god," Isabella whispered loudly, her eyes wide. "Is that... oh, god, is that... buttercream? Oh my fuck, Edward."

I gouged out a dollop of my sweet cream and spread it down her stomach. "Can I paint you in buttercream, my beloved cream horn?"

She didn't reply with words but simply thrashed against the floor.

"You're not allergic to lemon, are you?" I wasn't going to take any more chances. Isabella was now the most important thing in my world, and it was my duty to protect her... even from herself.

"No..." she whispered, her eyes rolling back into her head. "Just cover me in lemon, Edward. Please eat me and make me come again."

"Stand up," I ordered, trying to sound domineering, but my voice trembled and faltered. "Please," I nearly whined.

"Yes, Edward." Bella stood slowly and bit her bottom lip as it puffed out in a sexy pout. "Make me your bitch."

_Oh my fuck!_ She wanted me to get freaky, er, freakier with her! She was begging me to be my sex slave, just like in _Girls of the Penal Code, Volume 6_... oh, and maybe she wanted to do some bondage play, like in _the Shawskank Redicktion _but without the mouse. My breath hitched at the thought of reenacting pornography with my sweet angel.

It didn't matter that it was only October, because suddenly it was motherfucking Christmas.  
Except I wasn't exactly sure what to do, having never been asked to make someone my bitch before. Really all I wanted to do was worship her body with my pastry brush first and then my tongue, but judging by the way Isabella was squirming in front of me, she really wanted to play a naughty little game. If I had enough blood in my brain to summon a hallucination, I'm certain I would've seen Fairy Butch dressed up as a BDSM slave. I'm not sure why, but I imagined he'd be the sub.

"Obey me without question," I whispered in her ear, nipping her lobe. "But, er, tell me if you don't like something." Worst. Dom. Ever.

Her chocolaty eyes widened expectantly but then hooded over with lust when my hand towel dropped, revealing my throbbing spatula.

"Turn around," I commanded. "Feet shoulder-width apart, hands on the counter."

"Yes, Edward."

"Don't move," I ordered, watching her become perfectly still, like a lemony statue of Venus.

"Can I call you Master?" Isabella begged softly, and I had to contain myself from breaking into a triumphant jig.

"No," I said sternly, thinking back to the Penal Code flick. The prison slave girl in that movie was dressed in nothing but a collar and cuffs, and the prison guard didn't allow her to speak unless spoken to. "As your master, you're only permitted to speak when I ask you a direct question." I slapped her lemon cream-speckled backside with a spoon from my collection of special olive wood spoons on the counter. "And you may only answer me with the words 'yes' or 'no'."

Isabella whimpered, pushing her plump buns against my hips. The head of my cock pressed into the pillow of her ass, but the pain was minimal, if not even a little bit exhilarating. Pressing forward a little, I grunted at the gentle pull of the Albert sliding across her ivory skin. It gave me a little taste of the pleasure we'd give each other when I was fully healed.

"I'm going to bite your ass, Isabella. Would you like that?"

"Please-"

"Nuh uh," I corrected and smacked her again with the spoon. "Yes or no. Other words aren't permitted."

"Sorry-" _Smack!_ "I mean, yes."

"Touch your titties for me." My hands were on her hips, and I rested my chin against her shoulder so I could ogle her fun bags. They were so fucking perfect; the bachelor party cake I made in their honor was now crude in comparison. Her fingers pinched her nipples timidly. "You're a bad girl, Ms. Swan. I thought I asked you to touch yourself for me." Wrapping my hand over her chest, I painted a line of buttercream from her sternum to her shoulder and quickly turned her around so I could flick my tongue over the sweet icing. "Pull on your nipples, and maybe I'll let you have a taste."

"Yes," she moaned, making my knees buckle. I'd never spoken to a woman like this in my life... I had no clue I even had it in me. Truth be told, I kind of felt silly, but it was still hot.

"Isabella," I whispered, dropping so I could feast upon her ass cheek. "So fucking hot." I regretted suddenly that my piping bag wasn't loaded. I would've loved to cover her in blooming labia, but then again, she was already a work of art. Another line of cream was painted over her backside while I kissed and sucked along with every smear, until my mouth was full of the lemon cream.

"Would you like a taste, my luscious lady finger?"

"Oh, god." She spun and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Oops, I didn't play by the rules."

"I don't fucking care." I crushed my lips against hers roughly, opening my mouth and giving her access to the buttercream she craved so wildly. Her tongue thrashed over mine, seeking every lick of lemon and sugar, while all I wanted was to taste her.

"More," she pleaded, digging her fingers into my back. "Oh, fuck, I need more icing."

Always so eager to please her, I passed her the bowl and watched her face disappear inside. Having lost access to her sweet mouth, I sought the kiss of her other candied lips. In fact, nothing made me happier than worshipping her pussy on my knees, pressing my fingers into her ripe ass, feeling her gyrate over my tongue, and squeezing my face between her thighs.

Sucking and kneading and kissing and massaging, I found myself lost in the sounds of my Isabella's pleasure, so much so I didn't notice another vajazzle had loosened against the friction of my stubble.

I licked her clit and pressed my nose into her pubic bone, inhaling deeply.

"Any icing left in the bowl?"

"Mine!" she snapped.

"Oh, okay, it's just that I wanted to lick it off your pussy." I grinned at her from my spot between her legs.

"Well... I suppose I could spare a little then." She sucked some icing off her finger and, without letting go of the bowl, allowed me to scrape a little icing off the side.

I was too far gone to be artful as I covered her clit and pubic bone with lemon cream. I was too hungry to do anything but dive my head into the sweetness between her thighs, licking and sucking and swallowing, paying no attention to anything that wasn't my Isabella.

"Fuck me, Edward. I want your candy cock buried in me so badly I can't see straight."

I growled in reply and gnashed my teeth.

"Fuck-" I sputtered, falling backward onto my ass.

"What's wrong?" Isabella gasped, dropping the bowl onto the floor.

"My tooth!" A horrific pain shot through my jaw and into my ear. I spit out a wad of tooth and a little sparkly bead into my hand.

"What happened to your tooth?"

I groaned again in pain and wiped a dot of blood off my lip.

"Edward! Speak to me!"

"Nothing, sweetness, I'm fine. I just seem to have, um, hurt my tooth on your vajazzle."

"Oh, shit." She looked horrified. She dropped to her knees and pulled my face to her naked breast. "Did you break it?"

"I'm afraid so... maybe we could glue it?"

"Your tooth?"

"No. Your vajazzle."

"I don't give a fuck about the stupid vajazzle," Isabella huffed angrily. "Is your tooth broken, Edward?"

"Oh... yeah, I think so."

"I'm calling my dentist." She jumped to her feet and lunged for her purse.

"But... it's the middle of the night!"

"It's okay," she said softly. "He owes me a favor."

* * *

A/N: Buttercream balls to jkane180 and Askthemagic8ball, our betas. Bakerward would also like to coat our pre-reader, Jules, in lemon cream. And you, the readers… well, let's just say there's a nipple lollipop for each of you. Thank you!

Join Mac and Flan on twitter or on the Twilighted thread to share porno pastry pictures and ideas. Also, Flan is hard at work with the Twificpimps preparing to post the finalists in the Fandom People Awards for voting. Please check out the website in the coming days for more information.


	11. Chapter 11

NOTE - PLEASE READ: If dental work makes you squick, this chapter is potentially unsettling. Don't say you weren't warned, eh?

* * *

I was sad to see Isabella refasten her bra, hiding her glorious titties. Granted, the sharp pain in my mouth that was also shooting up my nose certainly distracted me from the disappointment as well as the chafing of my Albert against the inside of my pants. Just as she slid her shirt over her head, my doorbell rang, and I cradled my face in my hand.

"Stay there," Isabella ordered, moving to my door. I rather liked her bossing me around; maybe she could try being the dominant one next time... if there was a next time. I was starting to feel as though we were doomed lovers and not even my lemon buttercream and candy cocks could save the day. If the throbbing in my face was any indication, I was likely going to die any second anyway, so it wouldn't matter.

She flung open the door to greet a short man in a white lab coat. "Oh, Dr. Newton! Thank god you're here!" She turned toward me, guiding him into my apartment. Her eyebrow was twitching again, and I narrowed my eyes at the tiny doctor before wincing from the excruciatingly painful nerves irritating every fucking nerve ending in my face.

Two seconds later someone else moved through the door, scurrying into my living room rapidly while juggling armfuls of stuff. All I could see was a shock of curly blonde hair and an ugly green sweater. Did the dentist bring his assistant? Maybe it was his girlfriend.

"Hey, Jasper," Isabella murmured.

What kind sick freak parents named their daughter Jasper? More to the point, why was Isabella's eyebrow dancing hypnotically every time she looked at the dentist. Through the haze of my torturous jaw pain, I studied him. He couldn't be any taller than four foot ten, and his gut hung over his belt under his white coat. The pock marks on his face cast weird shadows over his cheeks and chin, his eyes bulging out almost comically. I wanted to laugh, except even my lips twitching made my entire head feel as though someone was stabbing it with fiery pokers. He pulled at his spiky blond hair as Isabella spoke quietly to him, her hands fluttering spastically along with her brows.

Jasper spun on her heel, nearly smacking me in the forehead with a giant bag. That's when I realized Jasper was a man - a tall, nearly emaciated man with freakishly large feet. Didn't Isabella know any _normal _people?

He smirked at me. "You must be Edward. Isabella has told us _all _about you." He wheeled around again and began unfolding a complicated-looking reclining chair and setting up a spotlight. When he plugged it in and turned it on, I seriously started worrying these guys were going to tie me to the chair and interrogate me instead of poke around in my mouth with sharp objects.

Maybe they'd go easy on me if I offered them a plate of Testicular Turnovers, although I couldn't bear to move - every time I did, the pain was so shocking I nearly vomited.

"Alright, Edward," Dr. Newton whined, "let's get you into the chair."

"He makes house calls," Isabella chimed in, a dreamy look on her face that made me nervous.

"Only for my best customers." Dr. Newton beamed up at Isabella, his nose just about eye level with Isabella's bountiful boobs.

"I'm pretty sure I paid for the bidet and rain room in their house," Isabella whispered to me, petting my hair as she helped me into the rickety folding chair. _Their _house? Were they _together_, or was it some bizarre living arrangement?

"Um..." I grasped her hand in mine and swallowed thickly, feeling myself grow dizzy with fear. "I've never even had a cavity before, let alone serious dental work."

"Oh! Isabella, you brought us a virgin," the freak called Jasper trilled. "How delightful!" He clasped his hands together and nearly bounced.

"I take it he'd like the Novocaine, then?" Dr. Newton smirked. "Frankly, Isabella, you're lucky I brought it all all. Being a friend of yours, I wasn't sure if he was another groupie."

Groupie? I was about to ask what he meant, when Jasper pumped a pedal on the chair, and my head was thrown back roughly. "Open up for Mr. Thirsty," he giggled and jammed a tube under my tongue that felt like it was trying to suck my tonsils out of my throat. The taste and texture of the plastic tube made my stomach churn.

"Wha moo meam my groufee?" I tried to ask. What kind of weirdness did Dr. Newton perform on my Isabella that would warrant the title of groupie?

"Oh my god!" Isabella suddenly screamed. "Is that a Vacuum-max 3300?"

"You know it," Dr. Newton confirmed. "It finally arrived yesterday. I had to have it shipped over from the UK, you know. I'm not even sure it's legal. The rate of suction is unheard of in North America. "

I could attest to that. I was pretty sure Jasper had sucked all the moisture from my body in the last twenty seconds.

"Oh, Dr. Newton... you don't think that maybe I could..."

"Take this puppy for a spin?" Dr. Newton asked lasciviously while my girl nodded emphatically at the proposition. "Of course, Isabella. Jasper can help me prepare the bonding cement while you concentrate on administering the suction. You _do _still like to do suction, correct?"

"Oh, of course! You know it's my favorite part."

"She's very good at it," Jasper agreed. "Remember that time when she suctioned me-"

"Stop it!" I screamed, pulling the suction tube out of my mouth. "She's my girlfriend, not a common... suction groupie."

Isabella's eyes grew wide, and her face flushed. "What did you call me?" She dropped the chair back until I was lying parallel to the floor and placed a black rubber oxygen mask over my nose.

"Whatever you did before we were together... well, we can work through it." Even if it involved suctioning off these freaks and partaking in dental orgy cult activities.

"Edward... what do you think I do with Dr. Newton exactly?" Her nostrils flared, but her eyebrows remained eerily motionless. My tongue caught in my mouth, and I found myself unable to speak, horrified by what I'd just implied and nearly psychotic from pain.

"I know about your... _thing_," was all I could manage to say.

"What thing?" Isabella's expression was dark, her eyes angry, but also sad somehow.

"Your, um, dental fetish..."

"How?" she asked, turning away from me. "Dr. Newton, I believe Edward will need the gas for this."

"Well... I sort of followed you the other day and listened you tell that man called Alice about how you like being drilled-"

"You were spying on me?" she screamed.

"No, my candied kumquat... I was just information-gathering for our date. I only wanted to please you, I swear."

Fat tears zig-zagged down my angel's cheek, and there was nothing I wanted more than to pull her into my arms, but I found my wrists suddenly bound to the chair by leather straps.

"It's so you don't fall out," Jasper explained, nearly tripping over his own gigantic feet as he walked around me to tighten the bindings on my hands again. "We're flushing your system with oxygen at the moment. Soon we'll start the flow of nitrous, and you'll start to feel a little light-headed."

"Suction, Isabella?" Dr. Newton asked Isabella, offering her the tube again.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Newton... I'm no longer in the mood to suction Edward."

My eyes widened in panic as Isabella glared at me and abruptly stepped back out of my sight. I struggled against the leather straps, more than a little worried about what might happen and fighting not to pass out from the blinding pain radiating from both my mouth and my Albert - I must have hit my dick at some point because it felt as though something sharp was trying to claw its way out of the head of my cock.

Jasper brandished a giant fucking needle and smiled at me, his teeth almost seeming to sparkle in the insanely bright spot light. He twisted the lamp around and shined it directly into my eyes, making me shrink back instinctively.

"Now, open up. This won't hurt a bit." In my head I heard him cackle maniacally, but it may have been the sound of the needle penetrating my gum. I tried to shout, but it came out a wet, strangled shriek that sounded more like a little girl drowning in snot.

My tongue felt oversized and fuzzy a few moments later, a distinct medicinal taste swirling in my mouth. It was a far cry from the flavor of Isabella's sweet pussy, the last vestiges of which were now dying on my tongue, much to my dismay. I heard Bella's voice arguing with Dr. Newton as Jasper covered my face with a large, black rubber mask, smiling maliciously down at me.

"Make it... hurt," Isabella demanded.

"But you said he's not one of your usuals!"

"He's not. I'm so mad at him!"

"I can't tell - hey, your eyebrow stopped. Isabella, is this not tripping your trigger anymore?" Dr. Newton asked incredulously. I was starting to feel a little dizzy, and the edge of the spotlight began to waver.

"Holy shit," Isabella gasped through the fog descending over my head. "I can't believe it - I'm not..."

Jasper removed the mask and pressed it to his own face, inhaling deeply with his eyes tightly shut. I couldn't see what he was doing after he set the mask down, but he turned back to me and winked, the action making him look like a deranged clown.

"A little bit for you, a little bit for me."

With that, he picked up a sharp-looking instrument, its shiny silver surface glinting malevolently. He seemed to creep slowly toward me, and I wriggled again, ineffectively trying to get away from the needle-like pointy thing.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelph," I muttered, fluttering my fingers against the arms of the chair and pressing my back against the seat. I couldn't hear Isabella, but my face didn't hurt anymore.

The scraping of the tool against my teeth sounded so loud I was sure my next door neighbor would hear it. Maybe he'd burst in and save me - after all, I had dropped off a plate of Trouser Snake Snickerdoodles the other day. Not that I expected payment for the goodies, but now would be an excellent time to start the tradition.

"Oh, someone's been a bad boy!" Jasper crooned at me. "You haven't had a dental cleaning in a while."

Dr. Newton leaned over me, his head so close to my face I could smell the garlic he'd had for dinner. I thought for a panicked second he was going to kiss me. Fairy Butch flew behind Jasper's head, wiggling his ass suggestively.

"I knew you had it in you, Edward! Just keep that willy wrapped, dough boy!"

"Shuuutp uuup, Booootch," I slurred. "I owwwwnleeeee wuuuuuuuuuubv Isssssssssaweellllllla."

"You don't love me!" Isabella whined. "You followed me and think I'm a whore!"

I scrabbled at the arms of the chair again, trying to keep my head away from Dr. Newton's wet mouth, which was hovering close to me, gazing into my gaping maw.

"Issssaweeeeeeelllllllaaaaa!" I called around the dentist's fat fingers, now poking around my gums. "Myyyyyy swwwwuuugerrrrr duwwwwmblllllllin'. Dowwwn't weaaaaaave meeeeeee."

"Buck-up, bronco," Dr. Newton said cheerfully. "I'll have this bicuspid fixed in a jiffy - that is, if my assistant would stop huffing the happy air." He reached up and barely had the height to slap Jasper on the back of his head. Jasper smirked and giggled while Dr. Newton secured the mask back onto my nose. "A little professional decorum, please."

Everything was growing fuzzy around the edges. What the fuck was in the happy air?

"Excavator," I heard Dr. Newton say, his voice barely audible through the fog in my brain. I couldn't see him anymore, but I could imagine him, all short and blond. There wasn't any of the pain Isabella demanded, just an annoying vibration deep in my jaw.

"Don't cry, Belly-button." Jasper's voice hummed like the low buzzing of bees. _Oh, bees... I should make bee testicle cookies_, I thought to myself. _Did bees have testicles?_

"But Jasper," she sobbed, "my boyfriend thinks I'm a whore. You heard him!"

I tried to open my mouth to speak, but nothing was happening. It took me a second to realize my mouth was already open. I drew metallic air through my nose, immediately sinking more heavily into a dizzy fugue state from the cocktail coursing through the mask.

"There's a block holding your mouth open. Don't try to speak."

No way! I _told _the crazy fuck of a dentist that I'd go blind from the gas... didn't I? Why could I not see anything? Why did I not know about this block? Did blocks have testicles? "Ahhhh caaaaah keeeeeee."

"Of course you can't see. Your eyes are closed," the hobbit-dentist of New York City explained matter-of-factly. I idly wondered how he could see into my mouth - his voice sounded like it was coming from under the folding chair on which I was sprawled.

"Don't hurt him too much, Doctor. I've changed my mind... just a little, okay?" Isabella's voice was too far away. Was she leaving? Oh, god! What if she never came back? What if I never got the opportunity to tell her how sorry I was for invading her privacy? What if I never got to lick buttercream off her perfect titties? Did Isabella have testicles?

What if I never got to taste her again?

"I'm not going to hurt your boyfriend, Isabella." Well, _that _was a relief. "You know I save all of the pain for you."

I'd kill him! I'd stab him in his little person testicles! Or I'd make Dr. Newton testicle cookies and pulverize them!

"I keeh yoooo."

Dr. Newton let out a boisterous guffaw. "Not a smart thing to say to a man with a drill."

"What did he say?" Isabella demanded.

"He wants to kill me. I guess he doesn't like the idea of any man hurting you but him." Dr. Newton was now using an impossibly duller file, throwing a shockwave of vibrations throughout my entire body. My limbs stiffened, and I shrank back against the folding chair, my Albert scraping against the inside of my pants. I was desperate for a shot of Novocaine in the head of my dick.

"Edward doesn't hurt me," she said bitterly.

"Oh, big mistake, buddy," Jasper intoned from above me. "Our girl likes a little dental pain. If you're not man enough, she'll have to continue to seek out the help of professionals like us. I suggest you nut up and give our Belly what she wants."

"Shut up, Jasper." Isabella sounded so sad. "Edward's not like that. Actually... Edward's not who I thought he was at all."

My chest felt heavy in a way I'd never experienced before. It was heartache. I was almost certain I'd never get the chance to properly make love to my sweet angel. There was so much I wanted to do with her... but now she wouldn't want anything to do with me.

I felt positively ripped apart, like I had lost an appendage. She had stolen my cock. She could keep it. It was hers. I never wanted to fuck another girl anyway. My cock would always belong to Isabella Swan. I would engrave her name on the ring of my Albert in tribute to the only girl I'd ever love.

I'd only known her for a few days, but she had left an indelible mark on me with her pink bowling ball and twitchy brows and vagazzled pussy.

_I love you_, I tried to tell her. I willed my hands to move, and I could feel them fluttering weakly under the restraints. My head felt funny... well, funnier. Just as I was sure the word would burst forth from my mouth and around the block, everything went black.

-({})-

Air Supply lyrics floated softly through my head as I groaned, feeling something soft and lumpy under my back. It felt as though my face was swollen, and my whole body felt... for lack of a better term... fuzzy. I felt heavy and light-headed at the same time.

What the fuck had happened? I peeked one eye open, the soft light of morning filtering through my living room.

_I'm all out of love... what am I without you? I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong..._

My eyes squeezed shut, making my forehead feel as though my skin might split apart. I hated Air Supply. I looked around cautiously, fully expecting to see Fairy Butch flitting around.

Oh my fucking god. _Isabella! _Last night's fuckery came flooding back to me, and I sat up with a start, holding my head and moaning. My jaw felt... well, it felt horribly bad, but my heart ached worse.

My apartment was empty, no trace of what had transpired the night before left anywhere I could notice. No folding chair or spotlight. No container of buttercream. Not even a piece of bloody gauze. Just that song, playing over and over again.

I realized after a few moments the song wasn't something I was imagining. I stood shakily and followed the music to its source - a small tape recorder on my kitchen counter. It was next to my  
model cock cake that had been in my refrigerator. It was one I'd used to perfect the design for Bella's cake for her friend's party.

My eyes widened in shock. The dick was broken off at the base, the broken appendage tossed into the bottom of my sink.

I snapped the 'stop' button down on the recorder, plunging the kitchen into silence, and tore at the roots of my hair.

"!" I half shouted, half whimpered.

My beloved cream puff had broken my heart _and _my cock.

* * *

**A/N: **So... we're heading into the home stretch on this ridiculousness! Thanks for reading and having fun with us - we very much appreciate it.

One of Mac's stabby crayons and one of Flan's giant bras to each of you who read and review! We'll throw in a Trouser Snake Snickerdoodle too... you know, for the hell of it.

We'd also like to thank our beta editors, Jkane180 and Askthemagic8ball, and Jules, our fantastic prereader.


	12. Chapter 12

Isabella wouldn't pick up the phone. I'd called her a million times and left her pleading messages, begging her to speak with me. I even sent her another cupcake pussy bouquet, but she had sent it back without comment.

"Dude, are you still moping about the spastic girl?" Carlisle barked at me after the third day. I supposed I really had been subdued; the love of my life - my sweet, big-tittied angel - was ignoring me. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. The giant corndog dicks on sticks that had been special ordered even came out shrivelled and sad. All of my cock creations had the same look... as if my misery subconsciously couldn't allow anyone or anything to be happy either.

I grunted in response to Carlisle, and he rolled his eyes, high-tailing it out of the kitchen before I started sobbing, which I had done every single day at least once, and it had nothing to do with my Albert or my tooth. My tooth felt fine now, and my Albert was healing up, even though I couldn't stand the sight of it because it reminded me of a fleshy, dark-haired beauty who was stomping on my heart.

Fairy Butch appeared above my head, crossing his ham-hock thighs daintily after he hopped up on top of the refrigerated case. I thought he was going to start singing or something - I'd had a steady stream of sad-bastard music rolling through my head for days, explaining my penchant for suddenly whining out the chorus of _You Were Meant for Me_ - but he just eyed me warily.

"You know you can probably have sex by now, right?" he asked abruptly, nearly falling off his perch.

"Shut up, man." I felt like a smacked ass for talking back to a fucked up delusion, but I was so far beyond having any sort of pride I had contemplated coming to work this morning without showering the stink of depression off myself.

"Oh, get your shit together! So she sent back your pussy cakes and won't take your calls. Big deal. You need a grander gesture. Something big. Something heartfelt. Or, well... you could switch teams." Fairy Butch licked his lips lasciviously and then disappeared with a lewd twirl of his hips.

I half-considered the idea of sucking cock and then shook my head. Fairy Butch no doubt had a nice set of moobs, but they were nothing in comparison to Isabella's perfect titties. I was only interested in one person's sexy bits, and those were my beloved Isabella's.

He had a point, though - maybe it was time to step up my game. I had to get her back. I _had _to. My career as an erotic baker obviously depended on it. I eyed the sad excuse for Witch's Teat Tea Cakes; they were deflated and pathetic with wrinkly nipples. It was more than just my job, though. I _loved _her. Being away from her was killing me.

I threw down my pastry bag in disgust and unbuttoned my whites. I couldn't be here. No, this was the day I would get back my Isabella, my little sugar booger. She would be mine. It didn't matter what I had to do.

Peeling off my coat with grim determination, I made my way out to the sales floor. Carlisle idly doodled stick figures with huge tits on a piece of scrap paper.

"What's up, Edward?" he asked without emotion. He didn't even look up.

"I have to take the day off."

His head snapped up, his eyes taking in my stony, resolved face. Or maybe he was just noticing the dark circles of sleeplessness there.

"Well, it's about fucking time, douchenut. Go tap that ass. I can hold down the fort."

I ignored his implication that I was about to go and fuck my delectable dumpling and tossed my jacket behind the register, leaving the Pink Cookie without a word. I had no plan, but I decided to start with the root of our problem: Dr. Newton and his assistant, Jasper.

-({})-

"But you said I needed to man up."

Jasper giggled and put his hand on my knee. "No, I told you to _nut _up. But I was wrong - she doesn't want you to hurt her."

"What?" My eyebrows drew up in confusion.

Dr. Newton sighed, his feet dangling off the floor as he sat next to Jasper on the chairs in his waiting room. "He's right," he said kindly. "After we left your apartment, Isabella told us all about you. She's upset that you think she's been doing something untoward with me."

"It's really not that freaky, you know." Jasper withdrew his fingers from my leg and played idly with Dr. Newton's hair. "A little drilling here, a little Novocain there. It's a really common thing. I enjoy the suction myself, but that's - "

"Uh, what Jasper is trying to say," Dr. Newton shot a withering glance at Jasper, "is that Isabella will come around if you just let her know you understand her philia, and you accept her and love her without reservation."

"Everybody just wants to be loved for who they are," Jasper added, smiling fondly down at the diminutive dentist next to him.

"But I _do _love her without reservation," I protested and tugged at my ridiculously unruly hair. My heart felt like it was beaten into a gelatinous mush by a Cuisinart, and my hair now matched. Surely Isabella's friends could see that my intentions were pure. "I love her," I repeated pathetically. "I just want the chance to explain to her how I feel. She needs to know I'll accept every part of her."

Dr. Newton smiled fondly at Jasper, sharing a moment I was pretty sure I didn't want to understand. "Yes, Edward," he said kindly to me, "I do believe you. Unfortunately, Isabella is really hurting right now… I'm not sure she'll listen to reason."

"Please?" I begged like a complete schmuck. "Please let her know how I feel? I can't stand the thought of her in pain. She has to know! She has to understand the, well, frankly _insane _depth of my feelings for her. Honestly, there's nothing I wouldn't do to prove my love for her."

"Nothing?" Jasper's eyebrows practically raised off his head.

"Nothing," I insisted, throwing myself at his gargantuan feet.

"Gianna," Dr. Newton suddenly called to the receptionist. "Clear the afternoon for me and fetch me scrubs and a coat in size…" he appraised me carefully and concluded, "large."

"Oh! This should be fun." Jasper grabbed me by the wrinkled collar of my shirt and frowned suddenly. "You smell like a turd," he explained thoughtfully. "Mind you, a sexy turd, but still... you're going to need a shower before we do anything."

The sweat of my desperation had obviously made itself known. After all, I had showered this morning, and it wasn't as if my toiling at the Cookie had taken a lot out of me.

"Oh, certainly," Dr. Newton agreed. "Of course he'll need a shower first. Jasper, why don't you go prepare the equipment while I show our guest to the bathroom?"

"You have a shower on site?" I asked warily.

"Yes, indeed! I work long hours, you realize." He ushered me out of the main reception and through a labyrinth of tiny exam rooms boasting malevolent-looking silver trays of what could only be described as medieval torture devices. If I hadn't already been distraught with heartache, the plethora of dental instruments surrounding me would have brought on a full blown panic attack. It didn't matter. No torture could be worse than losing my angel.

"Clean yourself up and put on the scrubs," Dr. Newton instructed when we reached the bathroom.

"Yeah, okay." I took the clothing and towels he passed to me but didn't move.

"We don't have all day, Edward."

"Right... sorry. It's just that, well, why am I putting this on? How is this going to fix things between Isabella and me?"

Dr. Newton huffed impatiently. "You're going to prove to Isabella you understand and accept her. Everything about her."

"I'll do anything," I vowed. I couldn't imagine a request I wouldn't fulfill if it meant getting my sweet cream puff back.

"That's good, because the three of us are going to drill Isabella this afternoon."

Without thinking, I grabbed Newton's collar and lifted him several feet off the ground, effectively pinning him against the wall so we were eye-to-eye. "No one drills Isabella but me," I seethed.

"But... you're... not... a... doctor," he barely managed to say. I may have been pressing a little bit on his windpipe. He coughed and wheezed.

"She's mine," I raged with just enough common sense to loosen my grip on his neck. "At least, she _was _mine..."

"Put me down, Edward."

I lowered him carefully off the wall, my hands still shaking. Dr. Newton straightened his collar and scowled at me. "This is why she's so mad. Immediately you suspected something unsavory was going to happen."

I lowered my forehead shamefully into my palms and raked my fingers through my hair. "By drill her, you mean... her teeth?"

"Just one tooth." Dr. Newton nodded. "A shallow cavity. I'll do the drilling; you'll do the filling."

"I'm going to... fill her?"

"I think she'll enjoy it."

My dormant cock stirred to life, twitching at the prospect of being reunited with his mistress. I would've explained to him that he misunderstood the dentist's explanation of what was going to happen, but he couldn't be reasoned with. He wanted her... I did too.

"It's not hard," Dr. Newton said inexplicably.

"It is," I disagreed, and my cock nodded against the crotch of my pants. I cupped my junk to rearrange things.

"Er- no. I meant the filling. It's not difficult." He muttered something about me being a perverted freak and shuffled down the hall.

He was right, of course. I _was_ a perverted freak. As soon as I was alone, the need to relieve myself was too great to be ignored.

Quickly stripping out of my clothes, I stepped under the hot stream of the shower and rubbed the head of my cock gently, thinking about my fingers in Isabella's mouth. Instantly my balls tightened and ached. My Albert ring slid against my thumb. Things were feeling better now, which made me happy, although it reminded me of my captivating crumpet. I alternated between feeling turned on while thinking about Isabella's lips on my nuts and feeling like shit because I was certain I'd never get her to forgive me, despite Newton's plan.

Fairy Butch and Fairy Carlisle tangoed above my head, both of them harmonizing. _Pump it up until you can feel it, pump it up when you don't really need it,_ they crooned cheek-to-cheek. I groaned, slicking my palm down the length of my cock. I used to really like Elvis Costello; now I'd never be able to listen to him again without feeling sick to my stomach. My Isabella would never... but what if she did? What if she _did _give me a second chance?

My dick hardened further as my grip tightened around the base. The sound of the water beating against the tile of the shower drowned out my heavy sighs and light grunts as I sped up my movements until I was furiously tugging on my flesh cannoli. My ragged breath filled the small bathroom as I came against the wall, and I nearly forgot to be depressed as I realized there was no blinding pain from my piercing.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, I dressed in the scrubs Dr. Newton had provided and gave my cock a pat before leaving the bathroom. Loud groaning came from Newton's office as I neared it.

"Oh, Jasper! God, that feels... oh, yeah. Don't stop!"

I backed away from the door, not interested in interrupting. Far be it from me to judge what others did to get them through the day. My foot caught the edge of a carpet runner, though, and I slammed into a small table in the hallway, knocking an ugly painting off the wall.

"Shit!" I yelled as the frame broke. "My fault! I'll... uh, I'll bring you a plate of Ben Wa Truffled Balls tomorrow to make up for it!"

Jasper stuck his head out of Dr. Newton's office, his hair looking as though he'd stuck his finger into an electrical socket. His eyes flickered back and forth between me and the busted painting.

"Uh, don't worry about it." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Now will you get in here?" When I hesitated, Jasper snickered. "Oh, for Christ's sake! I was giving him a massage, not sucking him off... although if you'd like to see that, I'm sure we can arrange something."

He looked at his watch and squealed. "No time for that anyway! Isabella is due here in an hour!"

-({})-

I heard her before I saw her. Isabella's breathy voice said hello to Dr. Newton, and Jasper asked her how she was doing.

"Terrible. I miss Edward, but I just... he doesn't trust me, and I can't let myself give him another chance."

"Don't be so sure, honey," Jasper replied. "Life has a way of surprising you."

"Oh, he surprised me, all right," she said sourly. My heart clenched; she hated me. Hated me! "I miss his cock." Her voice was so sad.

She missed my dick? I'd give her all I could if she'd let me. I would ply her with more cock than she could handle - every day, all day.

"It was just so... delicious," she sighed. "Really, the most moist cock I've ever had. And the buttercream!"

I peeked around the corner to watch her eyebrow twitch out of control. She daintily slid her luscious thighs against the vinyl of the reclining dentist's chair, her skin squeaking sharply. I would feed her buttercream by the gallon.

"Well, let's just get you strapped in, okay?" Jasper grinned at my beautiful goddess, and my teeth ground together almost painfully. I wanted to be the only one to restrain those delicate wrists.

"We're only doing a small filling, right? I don't need the cuffs for that, surely?"

"We'll see." Dr. Newton beamed at her, stepping up onto a plastic stool. "Maybe I'll try something new. You should always keep an open mind, you know!"

Isabella nodded solemnly. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Just be sure to warn me if you're going to do a canal."

When Jasper had trussed up my big-tittied angel to his liking, Dr. Newton grinned broadly, pointedly staring in my direction before wielding a drill the size of his head. Had he used that on me? Jesus, that thing looked like it could crack diamonds.

Isabella moaned before the drill even hit her mouth, and I tried not to wince. I only wanted her making that kind of sound when my mouth was on her, but I knew I'd have to get used to sharing her with her dentist. I had to love her for who she was. Twenty minutes later, Jasper beckoned to me.

"Now, Isabella, we have a special guest who will be doing your filling today."

I quickly approached Isabella's head and smiled down at her. She narrowed her eyes at me and then glared at Dr. Newton and Jasper. "Whaaa do yooo fink yer dooin'?" she hissed through her open mouth.

"Don't be mad, my sweet. I... I want to be part of this... for you."

Isabella thrashed in the chair, squealing angrily. "Someone needs her restraints tightened. Edward?" Jasper winked at me. "Be a good girl, Isabella. Edward's gone through a lot of trouble today to learn how to fill your cavity. The least you can do is let him into your mouth."

She huffed indignantly but stopped struggling. I knelt by her side and nuzzled my face against the tender skin of her wrist. "Do you want your cuffs tighter, my sweet, or will you stay still while I fill your hole?"

"Igh-er," she whispered, her mouth now wide open again.

"How's this?" I asked, tightening the restraints gently. "Tight enough?"

She nodded, looking from Newton to Jasper to me, all the while glaring suspiciously but keeping her mouth open like a good girl.

"May I continue, Isabella? The drilling's almost done." Dr. Newton placed the large drill on the table and picked up a smaller one with a long, needle-like bit. "If the pain is too much, use the safe word."

"Okai," she agreed and opened her mouth even wider. I cringed when the drill hit her tooth, but Isabella's eyes seemed to glaze over with lust. Her cries could be heard over the whirring of the drill.

"Does it hurt, my pudding pop?"

"Arhhhhh, Etwart." She said my name like she was going to have an orgasm, her entire body seeming to strain in my direction as her back arched off the chair, and her fingers stretched toward me.

"Keep your mouth open!" Dr. Newton insisted, and Isabella and I both groaned in reply.

"My succulent sugar mound. I've missed you so much." I placed my hand on her thigh and massaged gently.

"Suction!"

"I'll do it!" Jasper trilled, placing a plastic tube in her mouth before I could even react. The shrill scream of metal stopped abruptly and was replaced with the wet sloshing of liquid being sucked through a tube.

"Looks like we're all good here." Dr. Newton placed the drill on the table and handed me a dental gun. "I'll help you guide it into her hole. Just press down the plunger, and make sure the sticky stuff coats the canal."

"Alright." I tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. I rubbed my fingers against Isabella's supple lips and, to my surprise, she kissed my fingers... or at least I think she tried - it was more of a shift of her lips. "I only want to make you happy," I vowed. She opened her mouth widely again and arched her neck, allowing me better access to her hollowed-out tooth. I threaded the wire-like nozzle of the gun inside her hole and pressed tentatively against the trigger.

"Firmer, Edward. Nothing's coming out." Dr. Newton placed his finger over mine and started to press down.

"Buttercream!" Isabella screamed suddenly, and the gun went flying, knocking Jasper in the head. He staggered and giggled wildly.

"What? No, it's cement," I explained.

"Love bug?" Dr. Newton ran to Jasper just as he toppled over.

"Untie me, Edward."

"It's not buttercream, it's-"

"Buttercream's my safe word. I want to stop."

My head whipped from side to side at all the commotion in the room. Isabella struggled against her restraints while the tiny dentist tried to lift Jasper back onto his enormous feet.

"Let me try again, cupcake? I can do this. I _want _to do this for you." I rubbed the side of her jaw, and she nuzzled against my hand.

"I don't need you to, Edward. I don't want you putting anything in my mouth except your cock."

"I'll bake you a fresh one this afternoon," I promised.

"I wasn't talking about cake." Her eyebrow trembled in an epileptic fit.

-({})-

My apartment was a trash heap. I hadn't cleaned anything since our fight, and my clothes, take out containers, and tear-soaked love notes littered the floor. I hadn't wanted to come here, but Isabella insisted. She said we had to go back to the scene of the crime.

I hadn't even cleaned the broken cock out of the bottom of the sink.

I was mortified as Isabella stood just inside my front door and stared while sniffing the stale, biting air.

"We should have gone to the Cookie or your house," I lamented, making an attempt to gather the empty beer cans from my couch.

"No, it had to be here. And I don't... I don't care if it's messy."

Isabella followed me into the kitchen as I dumped the trash into my garbage can, and she immediately grabbed a sponge from the caddy near the sink and started wiping down counters. I turned and leaned against the counter, watching her with wide eyes.

"What are you doing, my darling dacquoise? You shouldn't be -"

"Are you telling me what to do?" Isabella narrowed her eyes at me and ran the water in the sink, shoving the soggy remains of my dick down the drain before flipping the switch for the garbage disposal.

"No!" I screamed over the grinding gears. "I just want to take care of you! I love you!"

She switched off the motor abruptly and advanced on me aggressively. "I missed you!" she yelled accusingly.

"I... uh, I missed you too." I brushed her hair off her shoulders and gathered it in my fist. "I'm really sorry, Isabella. You have to know - "

"Oh, shut up and kiss me." Isabella's shy grin was back, the perfect pink of her of blush rising out of her shirt and spreading up her cheeks.

"But the apartment... it's a mess."

She hoisted herself up on the counter she'd just cleaned and crooked her finger at me. "Does it look like I care?"

My lips were sucking and tugging at hers seconds later. I figured I should do what she said before she changed her mind. Isabella's tongue was the softest sugar, and I vaguely wondered if maybe I should be gentle with her since I'd just filled her hole. Then I remembered she liked a bit of dental pain and stopped worrying; she'd use her safe word if she needed to stop.

"I need your cock," she muttered against my mouth.

I broke our kiss and licked at her jaw. "I have some extras from your pussy bouquet in the 'fridge." I gasped as Isabella's cold fingers worked the scrub ties at my waist. "That's the best I can do. I... I ran out of eggs last night."

"Screw the pussies."

Oh, how I'd like to. I groaned at her words, still certain she was going to come to her senses and leave me. Isabella slid her hands down the back of my scrub pants to palm my ass, kneading and rolling. Strong hands... she'd probably make excellent bread.

"Isab-"

"I'm serious, Edward. No more waiting or being away from you. What you did for me today... you're perfect for me. Take me to bed and make me your beloved baklava."

My bedroom was the one area of the house not completely trashed by my depression. I buried my face in her neck, nibbling on the hot skin of her throat, and shifted her closer to me with my hand pressed into the small of her back. Her fleshy thighs contracted around my waist, and I could just feel her ankles locking behind me. I hoisted her off the counter, using my free hand to grip around her hips, and staggered toward the hallway.

With each step closer to the bedroom, the muscles in my legs and back screamed. I was a pastry chef, not a weightlifter! Isabella was worth every pain, but I was afraid I'd drop her and ruin the moment. I closed my eyes and buried my nose in her fragrant cleavage, drawing strength from her satiny tits. Resolved, I pressed on and sighed with relief as my knees bumped into the firm edge of my mattress.

I tried to ease Isabella down onto the bed, but strength failed, and I ended up falling heavily on top of her as her back slammed down. She groaned loudly.

"Oh shit! Are you okay?"

"Oh god, yeah! Kiss me!"

So I did. Her lips tasted faintly medicinal, I was guessing from the drill and filling, but I didn't care. She could have tasted like dill flavored earwax and I wouldn't have given a crap. My dick poked at the soft scrub pants, and I could feel my Albert insistently pointing at Isabella. She'd loosened the drawstring, but not enough for them to fall off while I was walking, thankfully. I wondered if it was my new piercing that had thoughtfully kept them up. I'd questioned its usefulness outside of pleasing Isabella, but there were obviously other benefits!

My mind went entirely blank when my wonderful goddess rolled me to the side and reached into the pants, her fingertips gently touching the head of my cock.

"Your piercing... it's... healed?" she asked tentatively.

"Fairy Butch told me I was good to go," I panted into her face.

"Who?"

"Never mind. Yeah, as long as I wear a condom. No bodily fluids except my own for now."

She gently fingered the ring protruding from the slit and followed it around to the hole in my frenulum. "I can't wait until you can fill my mouth with this."

"There are other places I can fill."

Her eyebrow twitched. Did it twitch for me? My heart leaped in my chest. I gently pulled her sweater up over her ribs, exposing her pink bra. Her nipples were hard, poking up at the satin. She moaned when I sucked one into my mouth, wetting the fabric and biting down lightly. It was ecstasy - I was in heaven with my angel.

After that, we both pawed at the clothes the other wore, determined to get naked as quickly as possible. With a final tug of her pants, she lay on my bed, spread out, bare except for a pair of Hello Kitty socks I opted to let her keep on because it was slightly chilly in my apartment. I was sad to see her vajazzles were gone, but maybe it was for the best - while Dr. Newton and Jasper had helped bring Isabella and I back together, I wasn't interested in another house call so soon.

"You skin is like cream, sugar booger," I murmured, kissing each kneecap as I moved my lips up her body, pushing her legs apart.

Isabella's hands snarled in my hair, tugging at me to come closer to her pussy. It was so lovely and perfect, far better than anything I had sculpted in my career. I pressed a lingering kiss to her plump lips, tickling my tongue between them while she squirmed. My hands coasted across her thighs and under her ass, pressing her to my face more firmly as I enjoyed the sweetness of her pussy.

"Buttercream!" Isabella squealed.

I yanked my head away from her. "Oh! Are you... did I do something wrong? Did you change your mind?"

Isabella propped herself up on my bed with her elbows and looked at me quizzically as her ample chest heaved. "What?"

"Your safe word."

"Oh! Oh, no. Not that. I mean, I want buttercream. You have some, right?"

"Well, of course. I mixed up a batch of chocolate buttercream last night." In fact, the only thing currently in my fridge were the bowls of flavored cream I'd been whipping each night we were apart to pay homage to my sugary sweetheart.

"Can I have it? Can I have your cream?"

"Don't move!" I ran out of the room as I yelled and hobbled through my cluttered living room into the kitchen, narrowly missing a mountain of empty Coke cans. Opening the fridge, I piled bowls in my arms and grabbed a pastry brush for good measure. It was another miracle I managed to make it back to the bedroom without wiping out, considering the fact I couldn't see over the bowls of buttercream.

"Oh, god," Isabella moaned when she saw how well stocked I was in sweet treats. She stood and plucked at her tits, just as Fantasy Isabella once had. I dropped the bowls onto my dresser so I could have an unobstructed view.

"I want them," I said pathetically to her nipples, attaching my mouth to her left bud. I teased and licked, and she wrapped her hand around the base of my cock.

"Put a condom on, Edward," she ordered.

"Not yet."

"Yes. Now. Put a condom on and give me a bowl of... do you have vanilla?"

I grabbed a box of condoms from the nightstand and ripped the lid off. Yeah, the box was unopened. It had been a really, _really_ long time since I'd made love. I rolled the latex carefully over my cock, pinching the receptacle end gently in deference to my Albert, and gave Isabella my cream.

"I want to eat your cock," she explained and dipped the pastry brush into the bowl, kneeling in front of me. "Hold still."

"Oh, holy fuck," I grunted. She painted the condom in strips of vanilla until it was covered in sugar and then looked up.

"No body fluids," she explained. "I'm sorry, but I just couldn't wait to have your cock in my mouth." She kissed the tip of my dick, the heat of her mouth through the condom nearly pushing me over the edge. I lost my hands in her soft hair, cradling the back of her head and ignoring every impulse to fuck her mouth. Instead, I gently massaged her scalp.

She engulfed my whole creamed dick in her mouth, sucking and licking until not even a trace of icing remained. My eyes had rolled back in my head, and I was fairly certain I saw both Fairy Butch and Fairy Carlisle applauding and giving me the thumbs up while I panted.

Isabella pulled away, licking her lips. "Thank god you didn't buy rubbers with spermicide. I don't think that would have tasted too good."

I didn't think latex would taste good with or without the spermicide, but I didn't say anything. To each her own. And really, if Isabella had gotten pierced, I knew I'd do anything for the opportunity to get my tongue on her love button.

Isabella slowly slid her body up my leg, her hot pussy pressing against my thigh as she rolled the condom off and tossed it onto my dresser.

"Sorry to waste one, but the last thing I want is a urinary tract infection. I like a bit of dental pain, but I draw the line at burning while I pee."

"That's okay, my darling. I'll never hurt you... unless you want me to."

Her hand was back on my crotch, stroking the skin of my cock. "You really do have a pretty peen."

My chest puffed out a bit in obvious pride. "Oh, uh, well, thank you."

"I can't wait until you're entirely healed." My dick firmed under her touch, her words making my balls tighten and contract. She released me and pushed me firmly against the bed, shoving me again until I fell on my back. "Until then, I'm going to eat your cream off every surface."

I felt a little giddy, and the compulsion to squeal in happiness was nearly too much. Instead I smiled at her gratefully. "The chocolate buttercream is in the yellow bowl."

Her eyebrow twitched faster now, and I watched her discard the cling wrap that covered the container. My dick reached toward her, wanting the warmth of her hand or her mouth or whatever else she might give me. Hell, it would have been happy to be firmly ensconced in her kneepit.

She reached in for a finger full of chocolate cream and gurgled in delight as she sucked it off. I had to admit to being rather joyful about it myself.

"You're a fucking artist, Edward." She plopped a dollop of cream on each of my nipples, and I shuddered from the cold. "I'm feeling rather creative today myself."

More buttercream landed on each kneecap, the tips of my toes, my chin, and my forehead. She dipped the pastry brush into the bowl and drew thick lines across my shoulders and down the line of hair on my stomach. I was slathered in cream, all except for my dick.

With an emotional look in her eyes, Isabella rolled a new condom onto my cock, taking care not to jostle my piercing. I was straining for her now, trying not to move so I didn't bump any of the buttercream from where Isabella had so carefully placed it.

"Stay right there," she ordered, her tits swaying with her movement as she turned and opened another bowl.

"Chai tea buttercream," I said helpfully as she scrunched her face in confusion.

She brightened considerably. That'll go great with the chocolate, don't you think?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Good combination." My fingers itched to bury themselves into her wetness as she slathered a layer of the cream across her chest, painting lines across the rounded softness of her belly and hips.

"Isabella, you look good enough to eat."

"Yeah, I'll let you get back to that... later."

My dick bobbed again, the light from my ceiling fan shining dully off the latex.

"Do you love me, Edward?"

"I do. I love you more than anything." I grunted as Isabella climbed onto the bed, leaving smears of icing on my comforter, and swung her leg over me. She kept her hips from touching mine but lowered her upper body to my chest, smearing the creams together. She moaned and licked buttercream off my chin. My hands flexed, instinctively gripping the flesh of her ass.

Isabella gripped my cock and positioned herself over me, my brain bursting as she sank down enough to insert my tip into her.

"Is that okay?"

"Okay?" I croaked, squeezing her skin to keep myself from pulling her down. "You feel... "

She inched down further. "Oh god! I can feel the ring!"

So could I - the pressure from her walls was pushing the ring, which felt... not bad, just different. I trembled and shifted my hips just as she wriggled, every last blessed inch of my dick fitting into her firm, hot grip.

She squirmed against me again, her tits sliding slick against my chest. She closed her eyes and kissed me soundly.

"I love you!" she called, retracting her hips and pumping them back down. The slurp of buttercream squicked between us as I slid my thumb along the crack of her plump ass. I helped her set a rhythm, Isabella cranking her hips back and me guiding her hips forward to slam against me. The condom did nothing to dull my senses - I could still feel every groove and ridge of her, and she seemed to like the rubbing of my Albert. My toes started to tingle almost immediately, and my stomach felt fizzy and agitated, tension building in the muscles of my legs.

She moved, I moved. I thrusted, she moaned. She tilted her hips, I grunted. We groaned together as she rolled her hips in a complicated triquetra, leaving me on a knife blade. She came with a loud shout, her inner muscles squeezing me as she froze, her face the perfect mask of pleasure. When she regained control, she sank down on me one last time, and I wheezed, panting as my hips wildly bucked out of control, and I came to the feeling of Isabella licking buttercream off my neck.

Isabella collapsed on top of me, her hair catching in the stickiness on my skin. With a giggle, she pulled a few strands free and laid her cheek against mine.

"Buttercream," she murmured into my ear.

My heart stopped. Was she... was she using her safeword this time? Did she want to stop? I prepared to have my heart broken again.

"You're not safe for me." She peeled herself off my chest and carefully helped me pull out of her. "You have my whole heart."

I breathed a sigh of relief at her words. "I'll guard it forever. You _are _safe with me."

"I love you, Edward."

I scraped some buttercream from my forehead and combined it with some chai tea cream stuck in Bella's ear and offered her my finger. "Forever, sugar booger."

_Fin_

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** Many thanks to you for sticking with BellaFlan and Mac during this admittedly cracktastic collaboration. A Ben Wa Truffled Ball for you if you review, and maybe we'll slip you a Baker's Dozen if you admit you like it… sugary.

Thanks, too, to JKane180 and Askthemagic8ball, our beta editors, and JewelzP, our prereader, for suffering through the insanity.

I'm sure you're already reading BellaFlan's other fantastic work (this is Mac, so I'm allowed to say that), and you probably want to read the collab she's working on with DoUTrustMoi (I read the first chapter the other day while beta-ing – that shit is hilariously bizarre!).

For Mac, she just wishes to say thanks for all the fish. It's been fun!


End file.
